The Second Tudor King
by LadyHallows
Summary: Everyone knows Henry VIII as the second born boy of Elizabeth of York and King Henry VII. But what if that was not true? How would history change with the reign of King Edmund Tudor; named for a King praised as the Great and Magnificent?
1. Chapter 1

**The Second Tudor King**

 **A/N While this based off of Showtime's the Tudors I will also be staying true to history in the fact that there are two surviving Tudor daughters (Margaret who marries the King of Scotland and Mary, who first marries the King of France and then Charles Brandon) as well as in age. Appearance will be based upon the show as I want you guys to be able to imagine it all.**

 **P.S my image for Edmund is Ian Somerhalder**

 _Description:_

 _Everyone knows Henry VIII as the second born boy of Elizabeth of York and King Henry VII. But what if that was not true? How would history change with the reign of King Edmund Tudor; named for a King praised as the Great and Magnificent?_

 **December 25** **th** **1496**

 _ **Sheen Palace**_

Christmastide was well known to be Queen Elizabeth's favourite holiday; merriment filled the court as musicians played their lutes and all within the court joining it – their Queen and King watching.

The reason why this certain celebration was the Queen Consort's favourite was the fact that all her children were brought back to court for such celebrations. Her husband was a cold, closed off man who was rarely one to show affection – though sometimes, she could swear she saw love in his usually guarded eyes as he gazed at her – but her children were more than happy to give and receive the warmth the once Yorkist Princess craved.

So far, the royal family had five children, all so different yet so similar that it put a smile upon her face to see them.

Their eldest was Arthur. A quiet, reserved boy who was very much her image; curled fair tresses and bright blue eyes; people praised him as the 'Tudor rose', he represented the merging of the red and white rose and was to be their future King. He looked up to where he was politely conversing with the Duke of Buckingham – a cousin of Elizabeth's through her Aunt: Catherine Woodville.

Looking to her second child and eldest daughter she could see the girl of seven grinning as she conversed with her companions. Her daughter had her father's dark hair and dark eyes, more his image than Elizabeth's, though a budding beauty none the less. Her daughter was very much a calm and collected child who was easy to get along with; Elizabeth hoped this would help her daughter fit in easily when she headed to Scotland, her husband arranged her wedding to it's future King, James.

Hearing a loud laugh she turned to her third child and second son, Edmund. Much to Henry's chagrin Edmund was much more Plantagenet than he was Tudor. He had inherited his tall stature, pale complexion and excessively good looks from Edward IV, his grace, charm and piecing blue eyes from Elizabeth Woodville. As well as her father's dark hair. His personality was one of bravery, wit and charm even at the tender age of six; happily chatting away to Elizabeth's older half-brother: Thomas Grey, Marquess of Dorset.

Her fourth child and third son was Henry, the boy of five was as outspoken, loud and protective as Edmund but was perhaps had more of the York ruthlessness than either of his brothers and sometimes displayed his namesake's coldness; like his brothers he was a handsome child, though perhaps not as much as Edmund, and charming.

Elizabeth found her youngest boys as her favourite children; her eldest son was often away, with his father or occupied with matters at his court at Ludlow; her eldest daughter she had seen little of since her betrothal to James of Scotland, her learning the ways of the Scottish and Gaelic giving her much more time to be with her youngest sons; Mary, her youngest who was but a babe, was far too young to be either favoured or unflavoured. But no matter what, Elizabeth of York loved her children.

As she looked around at the joyful court and her content family she wished more than anything that they could stay in this moment forever.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **April 2** **nd** **1502**

Edmund didn't know what to think. His brother, Prince Arthur, was dead; dead of the Sweating Sickness and now he would be King at his father's death.

He hadn't been taught how to be a King – Arthur was healthy and nobody had questioned any thoughts of a long life expectancy – and thus he was just the spare. Who, not six months back, his grandmother and father were attempting to send off to a church; much to his mother's protest.

Now he was the Prince of Wales in all but name he would never be sent to the church, he would be his father's most prized child and one day, he would be the most powerful man in England.

But was it worth losing his brother? What about his brother's wife? She was a widow now, stranded, alone. He was furious at himself for even feeling a little bit glad; sure, Arthur had been four years older than himself and always away but when he wasn't Arthur was kind to him. And now his older brother was gone.

"You'll make a great King," Mary told him with a warm smile as she clutched a beautiful China doll that their mother had made for her.

Edmund offered his five year old sister a large, reassuring grin, "I know, Mar."

"Don't call me that," she pouted.

"Is that how you talk to your one day King?" Edmund inquired jokingly as the young girl laughed. He truly hoped that one day he would be a King as great as Arthur would have been.

It was in the middle of the siblings' joking that Queen Elizabeth stepped in, her eyes red rimmed from tears spilt over her eldest son as she looked at Edmund.

"Edmund, your father would like to see you," nodding the young boy headed off, but not before giving his distraught mother a warm hug – ignoring the protocol – and nodding at Mary who, understanding, ran over and hugged her mother as Edmund left.

One day, he would be King.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **April 21** **st** **1509**

 _ **Richmond Palace**_

The mood had not been so sombre within court since the February of 1503, at the death of Queen Elizabeth, but now their King was dying; his Heir the not yet seventeen year old Prince Edmund.

Within the King's outer chambers the atmosphere was drowning in sorrow, the usually emotionless Margaret Beaufort sobbing uncontrollably into her handkerchief; the young Princess Mary holding the older woman, holding the last China doll that her mother had made her before her death tight in her hands; Prince Henry, standing, pacing as Prince Edmund sat in his seats – deep in thought as he attempted to reign in his emotions.

"His Majesty would requests your presence, Your Highness," a groom informed Edmund, Edmund nodded sharply and headed towards his father's chambers – sucking in a breath before he opened the doors to his father's inner chambers.

At the opening of the doors Edmund was greeted with the haunting sight of his father, motionless and silent upon his grand bed – his skin deathly pale and tissues infected with the blood that he had coughed up onto them.

He moved to his side, observing his father as the older man's dull blue eyes opened to look into the sixteen year old Prince's intense blue ones.

The King's voice was hoarse as he spoke, "you'll make a good King, Edmund."

"You might still make it through, Your Majesty," Edmund offered weakly but his father shook his head.

"Even if I could," Henry VII stated as a cough erupted from his lips, blood spraying onto his pale lips, "I wouldn't want to. I want to see her again. I need to see her again."

Tears burned at the back of Edmund's eyes as he thought of his mother, his beautiful, kind mother who was stolen from this world far too soon.

"Make us proud, my son."

Those were the last words King Henry VII spoke upon this earth, his eyes glazing open as they stared into oblivion. Wiping furiously at the tears that were fighting to work their way down his face he reached his hand up and gently closed the King's eyes.

Pulling himself from the scene he walked out of his father's inner chambers and then out into the hallway, wincing as he passed the broken Margaret Beaufort; it was then that it was announced.

"The King is dead! Long live the King!"

"The King is dead! Long live the King!"

"The King is dead! Long live the King!"

It was echoed from mouth to mouth, the latter words on every subject's lips as the bowed to their new King.

He was not Prince Edmund Tudor of Wales but now King Edmund I, King of England and France, Lord of Ireland. The second King of the Tudor Dynasty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Review Replies (wow, I was not expecting to get so many, thanks guys** **)**

 **Imperial Dragon:** _thank you_ _I hope you will continue to enjoy it_

 **Light Filled City:** _I understand your confusion, I had to spend a little while trying to fit it all in. Margaret was born in the 28_ _th_ _November of 1489 and, ten months later, Edmund was born almost three weeks premature on September 2_ _nd_ _1490\. Henry was then born almost ten months later on 28_ _th_ _June 1591. It is a_ _very_ _tight squeeze but I didn't want Edmund to be too much older than Henry and making him older than Margaret would have to age him at at least 3 years older. By the way, I have read almost all of your books, they're great!_

 **Jasonxo:** _I had modified last chapter as I was aware of the 'Lord of Ireland' fact but had simply forgot to write it as such in this book; thanks for bringing the pre-Norman conquest fact to my attention as I did not have any knowledge of that, but Edmund will still have comparisons made of him to the pre-Norman conquest Edmund. As for the conquests, you'll have to wait and see_

 **CherryBlossoms016:** _I think you'll be pleased by the outcome then; though you'll have to wait a little bit_

 **A/N Privy Council** **will** **be varied from Henry's though some (like Wolsey) will remain. Henry will not be appearing in this chapter as after some news – revealed in the first half – he has been temporarily exiled.**

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **18** **th** **June 1509**

 _ **Greenwich Palace**_

Edmund's coronation was not six days away and the new Privy Council had adjourned to discuss matters of state – or more accurately, Edmund's current marital status.

"It is imperative that you be wed," the Lord Chancellor, Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, implored as he gazed upon their ten and six year old King, "you are of age and this country will need an heir."

Their King sighed out. It was not that he didn't want to be married – it was a necessity for his country, as was having a male heir, but rather that he didn't want to be tied down, didn't want to have to proclaim his love for a woman he knew not of. But that's how it always was. His grandparents, Queen Elizabeth (Woodville) and King Edward IV had been able to marry for their love – but his parents hadn't nor had Margaret Beaufort and Edmund Tudor. It was his duty, but perhaps not now.

"Can it not wait, Lord Chancellor?" Edmund inquired, "surely until after my coronation."

"It could have, Your Majesty, but…" At the Lord Chancellors reluctance to speak words that he knew would spark the famous Tudor temper within the King, Thomas Grey, 2nd Marquess of Dorset, answered,

"Your Majesty, your brother, Prince Henry, has wed. If he is to produce a son before you… He could have the potential to rally people against you. Especially considering the identity of his wife."

The ten and six, almost ten and seven, year old King's blood boiled in rage at his brother's blatant disrespect; subjects were always to ask their King's approval of weddings. He could not have his people thinking he were weak, have Henry produce an heir before he. His father had taught him that much.

"He's married you brother's widow, Your Majesty," the 32-year-old Marquess of Dorset and cousin of Edmund's stated, "Catalina of Aragon is now Lady Catherine Tudor, Duchess of Somerset."

Any Privy Councilman who was yet to be informed of the matter had a look of dread upon their face at knowing the reaction they would get from the young King, only he surprised them, his body language screamed anger and his eyes represented the coldness and emotionless of ice. However his voice was deathly calm as he spoke, knowing of the threat he had looming over his head. A son born to Henry would be a grandchild of three Kingdoms: Castille, Aragon and England, should that child try to claim the throne behind it would be the wholesome might of Spain and the Holy Roman Empire.

It was no longer a choice to put off any marriage prospects.

"Who do you have in mind, Lord Chancellor?"

Slightly nerved at the King's expression the man was quick to speak, "Clarissa de' Medici, granddaughter of Lorenzo de' Medici, niece of Pope Leo X sister and to the Duke of Urbino, Lord of Florence; Claude of Valois, eldest daughter and heiress of the King of France and Duchess of Brittany; Margaret of Austria, sister to Phillip I, King of Castille and heir to Aragon, daughter of Maximillian I, Holy Roman Emperor; Eudokia Ivanovna of Moscow, daughter of Ivan III, the Grand Prince of Moscow."

Edmund pondered the possibilities. He immediately ruled out Claude of Valois, who he knew was just six years of age thus in no position to produce an heir and then Margaret of Austria, if he was also to marry a woman with strong connections to both Spain and the Roman Empire then it would seem as if England was isolating France, Sweden and multiple other countries that it would be in their best interest to become allies to as well as the factor that she was twenty-six and had been married twice, yet to produce any living issue.

That left Eudokia of Moscow and Clarissa de' Medici. The youngest Princess of Moscow was six years Edmund's senior, aging her at two and twenty to Edmund's six and ten whereas Clarissa de' Medici is to be aged at ten and three.

Not only would it be safer for the elder woman to produce an heir but it would also be more likely and swiftly as well as cementing an alliance with a monarchy that England has not, to Edmund's belief, been tied to before.

"I trust you have obtained portraits, Lord Chancellor?" Edmund questioned, looking at the older man.

He nodded his head, "yes, Your Majesty, which is it you would like to see?"

"Bring me Princess Eudokia of Moscow's portrait."

 **23** **rd** **June 1509**

 _ **Greenwich Palace**_

It was just a day prior to Edmund's coronation that the delayed Princess of Moscow had arrived, several Ladies from her home at her side as she was presented at their dancing and festives night that had been planned for her arrival.

Edmund had been conversing with Viscount Grane as the herald had announced: "Her Royal Highness, Princess Eudokia of Moscow."

The woman that had entered was a remarkably beautiful woman. Her hair was a copper red, her eyes a brilliant green. Her height was tall and elegant with a heart shaped face, high cheekbones and long lashes. Despite being in a whole new country the woman held herself with a grace and confidence that not many could manage.

She approached the throne upon which Edmund sat, the one next to him unoccupied. That would be _her_ throne she thought with a smile, she was to become a Queen.

"Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Edmund mustered his best smile for the older Princess as he replied, "the pleasure is all mine, Your Highness. Would you be inclined to dance?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Eudokia agreed as Edmund stood from his throne, offering her his arm as the whole court stood to watch the exchange.

As they approached the dance floor the silence that the eager onlookers had created by ceasing their activities stopped as they all joined in the dance with their King and future Queen, before even meeting the marriage date had been agreed for the 1st of July, eight days away, and Eudokia's coronation for the end of the following month: August 31st.

The musicians played as the King and the Princess of Moscow danced, neither speaking a word until the silence was broken by Edmund.

"Have you chosen a name yet? For when you are Queen?"

Once she was informed of the King of England and France, Lord of Ireland's interest in her to become his Queen she knew her name would have to be changed to an English one.

Her initial thoughts had been Elizabeth, the closest of any to her name but had been warned against it due to the King's utter devastation at his mother Elizabeth's death, her father had feared that it would bring up feelings from the past.

Katherine had been her next favoured name but after the events that had unfolded with Prince Henry, Duke of Somerset and the former Princess of Aragon and Castille, Catalina, now Catherine, she had decided to rule it off too.

"Margaret, I have decided upon Margaret," she informed him as she was twirled. It had no relevance to her name but she found the name quite stuck, it was a very common name and thus would fit her into English society. Though she would never forget her roots, to her, her home of Moscow would come first, even over England; but it would be dangerous for anyone to know such thoughts for she was supposed to think of England now. Yet Moscow was her home.

Edmund nodded as he twirled the red haired beauty, both of them dancing in time to the beautiful melodies of the court musician.

"If I may be so bold," Eudokia began, looking up at Edmund, "when will the Duke and Duchess of Somerset be returning to court?"

His eyes flashed with annoyance and slight anger at the inquiry, clearly it was too early to ask with such bad blood between the two, "when I say they shall."

Both were silent after that, changing partners when the dance required them to do so.

The King sighed to himself, wondering what kind of a match this would be.

 **Would you guys like me to continue through the years or have a time skip to the juicy parts (aka 1522)? What do you think of the soon to be Queen Margaret aka Princess Eudokia? Will their marriage last?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Review Replies:**

 **Imperial Dragon:** The time skip will be happening within the next two chapters as I feel I still have a few things to clean up but it will be happening, as for Margaret: who knows? Except for me, of course

 **Light Filled City:** I will be doing a filler chapter(s) and then head to the time skip, the wars with France and Scotland will play a part within this story. You will be seeing some Katherine and Henry this chapter and yes, because of that we will be seeing some tense relationships and ambition within the fillers. I'm truly not sure how the name thing works but with how Catalina became Catherine and Mary (the King's sister, when she is in France) becomes Marie I had assumed. I have reviewed on quite a few though I'm afraid not always under my profile name, I'm loving the new one by the way

 **Lady Nyshah:** Time skip will be soon, I promise

 **CherryBlossom016:** We will be skipping the the juicy parts soon and I'm really excited for it , and yeah, I probably will do so

 **AshleyKagome15:** Thank you , I'm sorry to say that Elizabeth Tudor is still dead within this story, just as the other Edmund (who was named for Edmund when it seemed as if he was going to die from a tragic bout of sickness in 1499) and Katherine Tudor. Though if I am to do another book I would find that quite an intriguing idea to do.

 **A/N this chapter will be a little jumpy as this will be the filler chapter before I skip to the year of 1522, I hope you enjoy**

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **4** **th** **September 1509**

 _ **Somerset House: home of the Duke and Duchess of Somerset**_

Henry Tudor gripped harshly onto his cup as he glared at the unoffending desk.

His brother, King Edmund I, had the gall to not invite him to either his or his wife's coronation; creating a front that the King was displeased with Henry. Which was true, but now every courtier would shun Catherine and he to get into the King's favour.

His new wife walked over to where he was sat stonily in the chair, wrapping her arms around him. He knew this wasn't easy for her either; going from having being the future Queen of England to marrying the third son of the King of England, even if he was a Duke with a considerable income.

But now they were exiled. Exiled until the _King_ sees fit to bring him back.

Henry had always been plagued with the thoughts of what could have been, he fancied that he would make a far better King than Edmund every would.

And perhaps, with a son from Catherine, the English people might just see him as the better option. His son would be the grandson of the house of York and Lancaster, of the Kingdom of Castille and Aragon.

Meanwhile, Edmund had married a Princess from a not as powerful family – only the Grand Prince; one who's first religion (though she had converted) was not Roman Catholic and whom did not have the might of the Holy Roman Emperor and the combined forces Castille and Aragon for backing.

Catherine, meanwhile, was not quite as bothered. Yes, it irked her that the King had dismissed the daughter of the fearsome Queen Isabella of Castille and great King Ferdinand of Aragon from court but Catherine had warned her husband of not telling the King of their intentions to marry – though Henry had been right, he never would have allowed it.

She knew her younger husband felt love for her, having sent her countless letters of love throughout the years, but his ambition to become the most powerful overcame all; and she knew even his full on devoted love would not save her if his ambitions were not fulfilled, if they did not have a boy that would give Henry more backing in his longing for the throne.

Yes, Catherine was ambitious; yes, she wanted to become a woman as powerful and influential as her parents had been; yes, she had once been so close to the English throne and still felt a longing for its power but she was beginning to love Henry. And a life with him, even if she had no power left in this world, would keep her more than content; but she could not say the same for him.

"Come to bed, my sweet," she whispered within his ear, "and you shall have your heir."

Catherine knew there was no reason to worry. Her mother had had five surviving children, even if her beloved brother had died twelve years previously as he had been healthy up to that date, as with her eldest sister Isabella, and her other sister, Juana, already had six children with her husband; Maria having six to this date as well. Yet she couldn't help but dread if her statement was never to come true.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **24** **th** **September 1509**

 _ **Greenwich Palace**_

"The Privy Council meeting is concluded for today," Edmund announced as he rose from his chair, all the other members following suit as they stood respectfully whilst he left the room.

People bowed as he passed yet his mind was completely elsewhere; his wife and he were still rather estranged, apart from the regular bed chamber visits, and he had no idea how to help it.

Despite being well enough knowledged of the English language her fast tones and thick accent often made it increasingly hard for him to understand her words. As well as the factor of an heir.

He could see the courtiers gazing upon her flat stomach expectantly; and he wasn't surprised considering the factor that his mother had given birth to Arthur prematurely after just eight months of marriage and seemed to forget that it more commonly took longer than that – though Edmund would not hide the factor that he would be more than eager for an heir; yet putting stress on Queen Margaret hardly seemed the answer.

It would be an absolute necessity, however, that his heir was to be produced before his brothers – god help him if Henry were to produce a son with the Spanish Infanta; even a daughter could cause a slight measurement in loss of support upon him. And more to Henry, who Edmund had witnessed too many rants of his of how he would make the best King.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **1** **st** **January 1511**

 _ **Richmond Palace**_

1510 had seemed to have been moderately good year for King Edmund and Queen Margaret.

January had Parliament grant Edmund generous tax subsides; they had finally become far closer as friends and England had come to love and adore their new monarchs – shown through the almost ridiculous amount of nobles and even peasants children being named either Edmund or Margaret as well as the deafening sounds of shouts and cheers that accompanied the royal couple wherever they had roamed.

Yet it was another empty year, not a child in sight.

Queen Margaret had grown accustomed to the curious stares and almost hostile looks at times but had took it all within her stride. Edmund's mother had had five children to survive past fifteen and her own father had had nine children with his two wives – there could be little doubt as to eithers fertility.

Perhaps God was making them wait, Edmund had constantly reassured himself, to wait for a Prince that would preside of empires and bring about a golden age.

Yet the events upon this very day had taught him two things: that he was in desperate need of an heir and that it was an omen that 1511 would be a bad year for he.

Henry and Catherine had had a son.

The bells of Somerset had rang late into the night as people celebrated the birth of little Henry, or Hal as he was to be called to differentiate he from his father. He could her whispers of his younger brother from every courtiers lips, had a man heading towards the Tower of London who he had heard doubt upon his fertility – that perhaps Henry should be upon the throne.

He needed an heir and with pace for if he was to never have a son then Henry or even little Hal would seem like a much better candidate for the throne; and what was a King without the support of his people?

His meeting with the Privy Council was to be postponed until the following day, instead his course was changed to the Queen's chambers.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **13** **th** **September 1513**

 _ **Greenwich Palace**_

The Privy Council was within silence as the King spoke. It had been not four days since the Battle of Flodden in which King James IV was killed that King Edmund had already concocted his next plan of attack.

1513 had been a year of victory and conquest for the now three and twenty year old King; having lead the battle and reigned victorious at the Battle of Guinegate followed by the Battle of Flodden (lead by Thomas Howard as the King had stayed home to be with his pregnant wife; the result of the birth having been a stillborn son).

Many of the Councilmen and advisers thought it was grief that was controlling the man, the royal couples first successful pregnancy having been a stillborn when Henry's boy had lasted to fifty-two days before his devastating passing, driving him in a longing to take over Scotland, to become glorious after so many had come to doubt the Tudor reign and see it as unstable with its distinct lack of heirs.

Either way, the King of England and France, Lord of Ireland was set upon claiming Scotland for his own, especially after it was his forces that had defeated the country in battle.

"It is mine," the King declared, "by right of conquest Scotland is to be mine, after my forces defeated its King. Like how my father defeated King Richard III for the crown of England."

Charles Brandon, a good friend of both the King of England and Duke of Somerset nodded in agreement but with hesitance, "yes, Your Majesty, but when King Henry VII took over England was deprived of any heirs whereas King James has his son James and dowager Queen Margaret of Scots is pregnant."

Edmund sighed out, knowing his sister would be less than impressed of his invasion of her country but it had been Scotland that had declared war on England, Scotland that had lost and he wanted to prove his reign; and from it he would ensure his elder sister had a flashy title, lands and considerable income as well as a title for the one year old 'King of Scotland'.

"Then we must attack whilst Scotland is at its weakest, still reforming from the loss of its King and settling into having their one year old 'King'. Have we enough forces for such an arrangement?"

Sir Thomas More, less than impressed by Edmund's proclamations of yet another conflict, was the one who informed him, "yes, Your Majesty."

"Then, after a goodnights rest, we shall all proceed tomorrow at dawn; I shall lead such an attack, and England shall be glorious once more."

 **I hope you enjoyed this filler chapter. England did not conquer Scotland in 1513 but since the line will not go to James I and VI within my story I wanted to make sure to combine them; and after the Battle of Flodden it seemed to be a good idea.**

 **Next chapter will be a skip to 1522 and the arrival of drama at the court – as well as some** _ **changes**_ **in the marriages of both Henry and Catherine and Edmund and Margaret.**

 **I hope to see you next chapter, review if you liked it.**

 **Q: What gender and what name(s) do you think any Prince(s) or Princess(es) will have next chapter? ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Review Replies:**

 **Light Filled City:** thank you , I hope you like this chapter as much as you had liked the rest as a boat load of drama has worked its way into Edmund's reign

 **Imperial Dragon:** Thanks for the names ideas, I like Beatrice and William but I'm afraid I'd already named them – I hope you like the names of them

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **13** **th** **September 1521**

 _ **Greenwich Palace: King's Study**_

It had been eight years since King Edmund's successful conquer of Scotland and within that time, many a changes had been made. In 1516 Catherine and Henry had another surviving child, a daughter, Mary, who was healthy to this day; 1517 saw the birth of the youngest living Tudor, Mary Brandon's daughter Frances; the Treaty of London had been signed in 1518 by England (and thus Scotland), France, the Holy Roman Empire, the Papacy, Spain, Burgundy and the Netherlands against their latest foe, the Ottoman Empire; also on May 12th 1518 a living child was born to England's King and Queen, Princess Isabel of England, was born; 1519 saw Edmund's own chapel's completion and he as a candidate to lead the Holy Roman Empire – even if he was not the one to have been chosen; the 16th December 1520 saw the birth of a younger Princess, Princess Cecily of England and a possible alliance (that fell through) of a marriage between Princess Isabel of England and Prince Francis, Dauphin of France; 1521 saw Edmund the title of _Defender of the Faith_ and the Treaty of Bruges; so far 1522 had brought him the Treaty of Windsor and entering into the Italian War as well as his army attacking in Brittany and Picardy.

Yes, it had been a long eight years but the now one and thirty year old Prince was eager to join in the celebration feast to be had later that night to celebrate the eighth year of him becoming Scotland's King, the country only accepting him within the fifth year, spending six months at Edinburgh Castle in order to allow the nobles and subjects to get to know him better had clearly been a good move.

As King Edmund was finishing up a letter to Emperor Charles X on the matter of the Italian War a page announced: "His Grace, Henry Tudor, Duke of Somerset and Earl of Hereford."

Eight months after exiling his brother and his Spanish wife the two had been allowed back to court, though not in Edmund's good graces. It had taken a year for the brothers to be back as friends, even if each was wary of the other, though Edmund had given him the title of 'Earl of Hereford' as his sign of friendship.

Henry entered and looked to Edmund; both men were so different yet so similar. Both were talk, dark and handsome and possessed blue eyes yet Edmund's seemed to blaze with an internal fire whereas Henry's were more similar to the skies

"Your Majesty," Henry bowed, not as shallow as many but still enough to be respectful, awaiting his brother's permission to rise – which was soon to be granted.

"Rise, Your Grace,"

Henry stared at his brother for a moment, as if contemplating every scenario that this conversation could lead to; every reaction his older brother might possess, seemingly deciding it was now or never the both Duke and Earl began to speak, "I wish to have my marriage to Catherine annulled."

Of all the things Edmund had expected Henry to have said – his hesitance showing the King that his matter was one of seriousness – it was not this, Edmund's eye brows raised, "upon what grounds?"

"That she was married to Arthur, my brother," Henry began to explain, "therefore our marriage was one of sin, one which has shown in our lack of heirs."

Edmund regarded Henry carefully before inquiring, "Who is it? That has ensnared your feelings so?"

"Anne, Anne Boleyn," Henry answered, though his tone was reluctant as if he were trying to keep her as far from Edmund as possible.

Edmund thought for a moment, finally being able to place the woman as he thought of the Ambassador of the Netherlands, Sir Thomas Boleyn, whom he knew to have had three living children with his wife, the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk: Mary, George and Anne. The youngest of which had seemingly caught his brother's affections; and the eldest he knew had once been Henry's mistress.

Deciding not to grace his brother with an answer, curious as to who could ensnare Henry Tudor so, Edmund's reply was an inquiry, "will she be at the festives tonight?"

"Yes," Henry answered, his voice lustful as he thought of what she might wear, "she shall be at the Masquerade."

"I shall look out for her then and inform you of my decision at a later date," King Edmund informed him. Though slightly annoyed at not receiving a straight answer Henry bowed and left the room – never turning his back on the King as he exited – and headed back to his chambers to prepare for this evening.

Edmund, meanwhile, was less than eager to give his brother his answer. Despite the fact that Mary was a threat to the throne to his daughters, the Princess Isabel and Princess Cecily, he loved his niece; she was a most charming child and one could see her and Isabel were almost joined at the hip at times, little Cecily attempting to crawl after in an attempt to keep up with the older girls.

He had no doubt that such a divorce, or even annulment that would make his sweet niece illegitimate, a bastard, would have a disastrous effect upon her well being. And it was highly unlikely that Catherine would ever give in, and the Pope, ally of her nephew Holy Roman Emperor and King of Spain, Charles, was less than likely to agree.

No, Henry would not be granted his annulment, but Edmund was rather curious as to whom had ensnared his brother so; even more than the mistress that had borne Henry his only living son (even if he was illegitimate). And if Henry were to re-wed the Boleyn girl and having a healthy, living, legitimate son then Edmund and his daughters would be endangered.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **13** **th** **September 1521**

 _ **Greenwich Palace: Queen's Chambers**_

Queen Margaret, Queen of England, Scotland, France and Lady of Ireland sighed out as she continued her stitching, her ladies sitting in silence as they either focused upon reading or other mundane tasks that she had set.

Her older brother, Grand Prince Vasili III of Moscow, had decided it was within his best interest to ally himself with King Francis I of France and thus against her husband and his Anglo-Imperial alliance.

Her husband was less than impressed of the Russian Grand Prince not keeping up the deal he and her father had made when she had wed the King and didn't half make it obvious; Margaret had made the mistake of defending her brother several weeks previously and it had not ended well for her – their argument had lasted out days followed by a week or two of silence between the royal couple.

It honestly hadn't helped whatsoever. She was a Queen without her King's love; with two daughters and five miscarriages/still births and a home that was allying themselves against her husband.

It was common knowledge that the seven and thirty year old Queen was not remotely likely to bare any more living children, especially after the complications in the birth of Princess Cecily, and she knew, that while her husband exerted nowhere near the amount of pressure on her as other courtiers, nobles and as Henry did on Catherine, he still longed for an heir to keep his dynasty assured.

"How are Lady Howard and Lady Stafford?" The Queen questioned after the two of the women who had previously been her Ladies In Waiting before having to leave to go into confinement.

"Quite well, Your Majesty," Lady Ursula Stafford reassured the Queen with a small, rather pitying, smile, "both have borne healthy boys, Lady Howard's is named Richard and Lady Stafford's is named George."

The Queen grimaced at the revilement of the genders and sighed heavily as she turned to her Ladies, commanding, "help me dress for the masquerade."

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **13** **th** **September 1521**

 _ **Greenwich Palace: Hall**_

Laughter, gossip and song filled the air of Greenwich Palace ballroom as courtiers twizzled around their respective dance partners.

Despite the fact that only the Queen sat upon the royal thrones it was easily to spot the two from a mile away, despite the masks. The King wore a dark blue that seemed to bring out the electricity of his eyes, his jewels were all a rich, golden as the sun in colour as they gleamed around his neck. Covering his features around his eyes was a mask of gold.

The Queen sat in a dress of silver, made almost entirely of a beautiful silk with a stunning purple pendant hanging around her neck and a silver crown adorning her head, wearing a mask of silver.

Edmund was dancing with a very beautiful golden haired woman, her hair falling in ringlets around her pale face and light brown glittering as she revealed in the joy of dancing with the King

The partners clapped before circling around one another, coming together for a twirl as each headed onto the next partner.

A woman with glossy, flowing, dark hair was span into his awaiting arms. As he looked to her eyes they were like hooks for the soul, a midnight blue that was like a siren's song to his sailor ears. He had never before seen such a woman, and furrowed his eyebrows as they circled one another, as if furrowing his brows would help him in solving his mystery any sooner.

"I don't think I've seen you before," Edmund stated as each couple twirled their partner before pulling them back into them.

A small smile adorned her rosy lips, "that is for I have not been a court long, Your Majesty, I have spent much time abroad," her words were careful, choosing not to cause the King, who could agree or disagree to her possible marriage to Henry, any reason to feel negatively towards her with bringing up France.

The couples all clapped as they circled one another once more; a bright, intense blue boring into the hooking, dark eyes of his partner.

"My name is Anne, Anne Boleyn," she answered as she looked up at him. His eyes seemed to show surprise for a moment before a smirk rested upon his lips.

"I hope to see you soon, Mistress Boleyn."

She smiled at his words, catching sight of Henry awaiting to dance with her once more, "you will, I shall be a Lady-In-Waiting to Queen Margaret in the new year."

His smirk seemed to widen, "I am much pleased."

And with that the dance concluded the two bowing to one another before travelling in opposite to directions; Anne to her awaiting Duke and Edmund to his scowling Queen – who looked rather as if she had swallowed a lemon in Edmund's opinion.

As he sat down she leant over and hissed out, "is she your Mistress?"

The King rounded on her rather angrily, "no, she is not if you must know. Shouldn't you be plotting ways for _your_ family to take me down?"

"Moscow-"

"Has always come first for you! Always before England!" The look upon her fast left no room for denial as Edmund, realising a scene was being created walked swiftly to leave the room, only just before the doors he came face to face with a mutual friend of he and Henry's: Charles Brandon.

"Charles, who was that blonde woman I had danced with earlier?" Edmund stiffly inquired, his mood and hints of the famous Tudor temper coming through still.

Charles was fast to answer, "Lady Katherine Grey, Your Majesty."

"Invite her to my chambers, and be subtle."

And with that the King was gone from the celebration.

Meanwhile, neither Anne nor the King had seen the ambitious gaze watching the two thoughtfully as they danced, plotting.

It was less than likely that the King would grant Henry his annulment, at least not with a healthy, legitimate son and all knew that the Queen would not provide that.

But perhaps, even if she was only to be his mistress, with Anne in his sights their family would be rewarded; and, if they played their cards right, Queen Margaret might just topple from grace. And they, the Boleyn and Howard faction, would rise.

Yes, Thomas Boleyn and the Duke of Norfolk had some plotting to do and plans to make.

 **Hello, I hope you all weren't annoyed by the mistress situation but with King's believing it was their God given right, Edmund not loving Margaret and the current bad blood it was more than believable and incredibly likely.**

 **More drama of the Tudor era is coming your way!**

 **Do you think there will be any Anne/Edmund? Will she stay with Henry? Will he stay with Margaret?**

 **Who knows? ;)… other than me**

 **-LadyHallows**


	5. Chapter 5

**Review Replies:**

 **Imperial Dragon:** we shall see ;)

 **Guest:** oops, my bad. Sorry XD

 **Heffy:** thank you, I hope you will continue to enjoy this story as it carries on

 **Queen of the sass:** thank you I'm glad to know you guys are enjoying it, and you'll have to wait and see ;)

 **A/N some Anne-centric moments here but travelling back to good ol' Edmund, hope you enjoy**

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **7** **th** **January 1522**

 _ **Hever Castle**_

Anne Boleyn had not been surprised when her uncle came to visit, or even when her father and uncle requested for her to meet with them; they required regular updates of how her relationship with the Duke of Somerset, Earl of Hereford was going.

She had played the game of ambition to be the next Duchess of Somerset and Countess of Hereford at the request of her parental figures; only she had begun to care for the King's brother, far more than one should do when it was a relationship based upon ambition and self-promotion. Perhaps, in time, she would come to love him.

Only that wasn't the reason she was summoned; no, she was summoned for a matter regarding the _other_ brother: King Edmund.

Looking back upon this time a few hours later, she knew she should have guessed of their scheming, their eager faces awaiting her; the wistful looks of dreaming of power, titles, lands and wealth.

"Anne," her father began, his tone soft – as if to entice her into doing as she was told – but his tone commanding none the less, "do you know why we have called you here?"

Anne nodded her head, looking from her Uncle – the 3rd Duke of Norfolk – to her father, Sir Thomas Boleyn, "yes, my lord father. It is about His Grace the Duke of Somerset and Earl of Hereford, is it not? And if my journey to court latter this day."

Sir Thomas Boleyn inclined his head slightly, as if to choose the correct words for such a situation but Norfolk's cut in ended his plight, "it is no longer the Duke of Somerset, Earl of Hereford that we want you to seduce but the King."

Anne's mouth fell open with shock yet she was quick to recover, schooling her features as she had been taught by Archduchess Margaret of Austria; or as she was called in Austria, Margarete von Osterreich.

She had done as she asked and ended the love that was present between her and Thomas Wyatt; she had gained the affections and borderline love of Henry Tudor, if his letter were anything to go by. And now they wished her to ensnare the King.

"I cannot marry the King, I could only be his mistress," she objected; but Anne was no fool. At the looks upon their faces she came to the realisation that that was _exactly_ what they wished her to be.

Anne was swift to object, "I will not. You have heard what they call Mary, what the King of France calls Mary, _una ribalda, infame sopra tutte_ : a very great whore, the most infamous of them all."

Her French was perfect in pronunciation and Thomas Boleyn would have praised his daughter if it had not been at a time like this, "you will. For the betterment of your family you will."

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **7** **th** **January 1522**

 _ **Richmond Palace: King's Office**_

Whilst corresponding to one of Charles V's updates upon their current battles the King was disrupted, his page bowing before informing him, "Lady Katherine Grey wishes for an audience with Your Majesty."

Edmund's eyes were furrowed in confusion, _couldn't it wait? He would see her later_ but none the less he nodded to the page and commanded of him, "let her in."

The ever beautiful Lady Katherine Grey seemed slightly ruffled in appearance, her golden curls left right and centre and eyes red rimmed. The King gazed at her for a moment, as if he could observe and determine the cause of her problems and she stayed silent. It wasn't until he walked to her and tilted her chin up gently – brown meeting blue, did her mouth form the words she was so desperately mustering her courage to say.

The daughter of the 2nd Marquess of Dorset, great-granddaughter of former Queen Consort Elizabeth Woodville finally threw the words out of her mouth, "I am with child, Your Majesty, your child."

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **7** **th** **January 1522**

 _ **Richmond Palace**_

Courtiers stood to watch as the new Ladies-In-Waiting to Queen Margaret arrived, many shouting out to them as they swiftly passed.

Anne's dark eyes scanned the crowd for familiar faces within their audience. Henry Percy, a more than handsome man stood at the back of the audience, his eyes of green grass seemingly meeting hers, she tore her gaze away in a flash; also in attendance was Henry Tudor, Duke of Somerset and Earl of Hereford, eyes watching her every move in the way a predator watched it's prey.

She would not lie and say sometimes she had been afraid of him, during his infatuation (feelings that, if she were forced to admit, she rather shared) they would both whisper the promise of a son; but if he had split from Catherine and she had not produced him a son, she doubted anything good would become of her. His love seemed fickle and dangerous, though it was too late for her to prevent any attachment now.

Her eyes never left his until she was lead down another corridor, and before soon, heading straight into the Queen's Chambers.

The chambers seemed scarce for a Queen and rather dully coloured; if she were a Queen there would surely be more furniture than just the odd chair here and there and the colours would be a lot more vibrant, more exciting.

Inside, sitting upon one of the chairs, was the Queen. There was no denying that the woman was beautiful, despite her once youthful face now seeming much aged, her skin was a stunning cream and her hair a copper red with eyes of the peridot stone, her aura was that of confidence and she held herself with little flaws; though her skin coloured seemed to highlight the bags and lines upon her forehead that seemed to come with age.

All of the Queen's new ladies took to a curtsey as she reviewed them all, none stood for what must have been a minute to which one brunette woman – rather embarrassedly – fell before swiftly getting up onto her feet and resuming her bow. Seemingly approving the Queen allowed them to rise.

Her speech was one of which Anne had begun to eagerly listen to, rather determined to fit in within court, the opposite of the Netherlands where of which she was teased by girls her age for her high intelligence and being Margaret of Austria's favourite, her protégée; yet her mind soon wondered.

How was she supposed to get the attention of a King? She had seen the type of women that the King seemed to go for, the porcelain blondes or light brunettes normally accompanied by blue eyes: true English roses. Anne was quite the opposite: her skin was of a tan tone – but only enough to make her seem exotic in looks; her eyes were described as stunning, as hooks for the soul in an extreme dark blue, almost black, colouring; her stature was of medium height but she seemed taller in the way she carried herself; she was slim and would be described as a very beautiful, desirable woman if not for the classic 'English rose' look that so many sort after.

Yet many girls of great beauty were stationed here at court, many had come with her to become the Queen's ladies. She would simply have to make herself noticeable, she would always be there and she must stand out.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **2** **nd** **February 1522**

 _ **Richmond Palace**_

The Queen and King sat upon their thrones as the court watched on, awaiting the arrival of the young Princesses and their companions – he knew Henry and Catherine were waiting within the crowd to see young Mary.

As Edmund cast his gaze to the left he could see Margaret's new lady and the current object of Henry's affections, Anne Boleyn, gazing towards the doors.

Edmund would not lie, he very much desired the strangely beautiful woman but she seemed quite taken with his brother and even if he were the King he did not desire to deal with another one of his brother's fits. That and the last thing he needed was another pregnant Mistress, goodness knows of Margaret's killer glares that he would receive once she found out of the Lady Katherine Grey; which he assumed would be soon as he could already hear the whispers of it around the court.

As he heard the blaring of trumpets he snapped his watchful eyes to the door as pages walked in and bowed, Edmund informing them to rise before he announced, "Her Royal Highness, Princess Isabel of England, Scotland and France with her companions: Lady Mary Tudor, Lady Frances Brandon, Lord Leonard Grey and Lord Henry Howard."

The names were called out in order of relativeness to the King: Lady Mary and Lady Frances being his nieces; Leonard being a first cousin once removed and Henry being a third cousin.

Leading was Princess Isabel. The almost four year old girl held herself tall and proud as people clapped, cheered and yelled out for their eldest Princess. Her hair was Margaret's copper but with Edmund's bright blue eyes and porcelain skin, her mouth turned up into a smile as she walked to the two.

She bowed, as she had been taught, and waited for her father's permission to rise of which was quickly granted, and the soon-to-be four year old was swift to launch into her father's awaiting arms with a cry of, "papa." Though it had not by any means obeyed protocol the people of the court clapped once more at the sight – the Princess in the arms of her loving father before she settled upon his knee, after greeting her mother with a hug, eyes to the door as they awaited for the arrival of the younger Princess.

"The Princess Cecily of England, Scotland and France with her companions: Lady Eleanor Brandon, Lord Henry Grey, Lord William West and Lady Anne Bourchier," a loud applause also followed the fifteen month old Princess who gripped onto the hand of Lady Byran.

Contrasting both of her parents Cecily had the stunning, golden with hints of red hair that both Elizabeth Woodville and Elizabeth of York had had with her mother's shining green eyes and father's pale skin tone; she neither bowed nor acknowledged them as a Queen or King but rather let out a squeal of "mama, papa," before barrelling forward towards the duo.

In such a picturesque moment like this a wiser man than Sir Thomas Boleyn would say it was the calm before the storm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Guest:** (the guest who talked of _Anne/Edmund all the way!_ ) glad to see you so passionate about the pairing; I hope you'll continue to enjoy the book!

 **Guest:** (the guest who talked about _the pope shall grant Edmund an annulment_ ) I guess we'll have to wait and see as I fear they're not quite in love with one another… yet ;)

 **Imperial Dragon:** thank you and for all your reviews and support I dedicate this chapter to you

 **Guest:** (guest who talked about _Anne deserved better than Henry_ ) yes, I do believe that our favourite Queen Consort did and I think you're idea is interesting but I highly doubt that Queen Margaret would go down without a fight

To all Anne/Edmund fans, you'll enjoy this chapter ;)

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **March 4** **th** **1522**

 _ **York Place**_

"Again!"

Instead of being offended at the pageant director's orders Edmund merely chuckled at the older man's frustration; sorely tempted to award the man who had fired the gun with a reward worthy of his entertainment.

The Spanish Ambassadors were to be the guests of honour; sitting aside Sir Thomas More as they would watch 'The Château Vert' accompanied by he whilst Edmund took part.

Moving back to his beginning position the rehearsals began once again.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

All men were masked within the crowd as they were led by the director, trumpets sounding as the man weaved his way through them, the audience going wild for them.

To the left of him he could see his younger brother, the sashay reading _Youth_ lay upon his chest whilst Edmund's stated the words: _Amorus_. Looking to the tower he could pick out many faces. There was the Countess of Devonshire as _Honour_ ; his little sister, Mary Tudor (well, now the Duchess of Suffolk and a Brandon), as _Beauty_ ; Jane Parker played _Constancy_ ; Mary Boleyn, a previous mistress of Henry's, played _Kindness_ and many others, some he only knew distantly he could not distinguish through their masks, but lastly, another… _Perseverance_.

If one could be smitten at the sight of one woman he would class this as so, her face was turned from him, obscuring any view of her face but the look of the pearl white dress against her slightly tanned skin, almost black hair cascading down her oval face made him stare. She seemed familiar, yet with no full view of her he could not put a name to her face.

Nay, the woman was no traditional beauty but rather had this unique, magnificent beauty that called to him like a siren's song.

"No, you are just men dressed up," Edmund laughed, as did many others, as he caught the end of the joke; awaiting the directors final words.

"Desire over comes all… Attack!"

Trumpets blared and canons fired as Edmund made his way to the mysterious woman, Charles Brandon as _Loyalty_ (a name that made him rather bitterly snort, he knew it was natural for men to take mistresses but he had seen Mary's sadness; he ought to be more tactful and loving towards a Princess of England) making his way towards Mary; who stood under the heard next to the black-haired beauty.

Grabbing her hand he watched as her startled face turned to his, her expression soon disappearing, however, in a mask that he longed her to be rid of, her eyes dragging him in; seeing through his soul. Neither Anne nor Edmund were a fool in any way, each being able to recognise the feeling behind the King's words as she smiled coyly at him, "perseverance, you are my prisoner now."

Holding out his arm to her the two headed down to the dance floor,standing opposing one another as each seemed to scan the other's face, her coy smile still in place.

It was then that the director spoke up, "and now all shall be unmasked."

Edmund could feel the threads being loosed upon his mask and observed her as hers were – revealing Anne Boleyn. The King would not deny that he admired the woman as most beautiful whilst she had been waiting upon Queen Margaret, even considering inquiring as to whether or not she would be inclined to become his mistress (though after remembering his five months pregnant mistress currently residing in one of his manors in Cornwall he was quick to decide that a long term mistress would not be beneficial when Margaret already glared at him so) but never before had he seen her in such a way.

The light bounced off of her skin, making it seemingly glow as her almost-black, simply stunning, eyes were highlighted and equally as dark hair seemed even glossier and perfect; not to mention the figure that she possessed.

He found her to be some kind of seductress, a fact seemingly confirmed as his eyes glued to hers as they danced most elegantly around the other – within this moment she could drag him to hell and he wouldn't bat an eyelash.

Shaking his head of thoughts no good Catholic Christian should ever think he merely watched her as she danced, with a gracefulness that was a worthy match for any Queen or woman of considerable peerage. He became inclined to speak and did so, wanting to bask in the lime light of having her charming smile directed at him, "you look very beautiful tonight, Lady Anne," he complemented.

Her seductive grin returned once more and he found himself turning slightly to grasp himself out of her mental hold before turning back to her, "as Your Grace is always handsome."

"Do you say that to all the Kings you dance with?" He inquired, his own smirk rising upon his face as his intense, blue eyes boared into the ones that looked up at him through dark, thick lashes.

She let out a slight laugh as her amused eyes looked up to him, though her drawing smile never did leave her plump lips, "I have danced with King Francis, Your Majesty, but he has nothing on you."

At the end of the dance she bowed low, unintentionally – little did Edmund know that it was more that intentionally – giving him a more thsn premier view of her considerable bosom.

Bowing back to her, something that took aback some courtiers and left Thomas Boleyn with a winning grin, he kissed her hand before walking back to the throne that held his enraged Queen, still less than impressed of his pregnant mistress. Maybe he should have demanded she play _Lady Scorn_ within the pageant. He thought it would fir her rather well.

That evening was filled with discussing war against the French with the Spanish; but his dreams were plagued with the youngest, seductive Boleyn girl.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **12** **th** **March 1522**

 _ **Richmond Palace**_

 _To my dearest sister,_

 _I have decided to place my allegiance with France rather than your husband's country and the Spaniards, as I seem to have a lot more to gain from their side and your husband has forced me to play my hand._

 _If this is to reflect badly upon you, my sister, or place you out of favour then you have my apologise but the Grand Duchy of Moscow must not be risked; and from it I will come out with wealth and land from France._

 _Much love,_

 _Vasili III Ivanovich, Grand Prince of Moscow._

Queen Margaret read the Russian wrote letter with a growing fear overcoming her.

Her husband would no doubt be less than pleased at this revilement that her brother would not stand by the conditions that her father, Ivan III of Russia had agreed to upon their wedding.

Perhaps, for now, she was still determined she held at least the largest faction of his love but that quickly seemed to be fading. Nay, she was the Queen, there was nothing he could do to displace her; she must remain confident of that fact. For her it will, and will always be, Russia that she puts first; but she would not give up the crown of England, Scotland and 'France', Lady of Ireland!

She was safe, she had her husband's complete devotion no matter how many whores he may take; at least, that's what she liked to reassure herself for she was not stupid. She saw where his gaze lay, from Lady Katherine Grey to one of the Duke of Buckingham's daughters and so on and on – his gaze trailing after them like a water deprived puppy, and, for most, when no longer thirsty no longer wanted.

Not only was she the Queen of his heart but she was also the Queen of his realm. And she must stay so, for her sake and the sake of Russia which could, without her soothing words, soon become an enemy to England.

Little did she know that she was not the only one battling against losing her husband's love that night within Richmond Palace.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

Lady Catherine Tudor, the Duchess of Somerset and Countess of Hereford strolled through the halls of Richmond. To many, the woman's stride would seem confident and self-assured yet to those attentive to the small things they would see the slight falter within each step – as if each one was tearing her down as she made her way to her destination.

It was the banquet hall, where many a nobles came to dine and converse with others and their monarchs. And in the midst, swarmed like bees desperate for honey, was the 'love' of her husband's life: Anne Boleyn.

She cheerfully laughed at the joke of Lord Henry Percy, 6th Earl of Northumberland, who seemed more than attentive to the young woman; only to be interrupted by the arrival of Catherine.

Sliding her way through the numerous people, no easy feat, to reach the woman in which she wished to converse with.

"Lady Anne," Catherine spoke out as the nobles silenced – no secret was Henry's infatuation with her and Catherine's devastation because of it – nobody speaking up a word as Anne turned to her, her smile faltering slightly at seeing who had called upon her, "I wonder if I might borrow a moment of your time?"

Henry Percy seemed inclined to intervene upon Anne's behalf but the bewitching woman stopped him with her hand as she walked towards Catherine, smoothly agreeing, "of course, Your Grace," as she began to follow Catherine through the hallways to find her open a door to a seemingly deserted, though surprisingly well furnished, room and closing the door. For a moment Anne was prepared to defend herself, feeling certain that the woman was to strike her but instead the former Spanish Infanta sat down upon a seat and motioned for Anne to take the other one; though surprised her indifferent mask soon covered it as she took a seat.

Both women seemed to scan the other for a moment, both wondering what the one thing they used to (though Catherine knew not of the past tense part) have in common – Henry – and as to what he saw in the other. Anne did so out of curiosity but Catherine out of desperation, how could she get her husband to love her once more? What did he see in Anne but not in her? Her inner turmoil, however, was not evident upon her face.

"What is this concerning, Your Grace?" Anne inquired, seeing the other woman was not about to begin the conversation as to why she had been brought here; Catherine clearly lost within her own thoughts.

"Henry," Catherine replied, giving the answer that Anne's sharp mind – though even to an oblivious person it would be evident – had already expected, "what are you trying to do? Tear him from his marriage? Having him turn his back on his wife and daughter? What do you get out of-"

"With all due respect, Your Grace," Anne stated smoothly, "I have no interest in carnal affections with your husband," Anne did not add the _anymore_ that would have made the statement more truthful; knowing that if Henry had found a way to divorce or annul his marriage to Catherine then such affections would have been required, not just desired.

Catherine seemed sceptical upon her answer and eyed Anne for a moment before enquiring, "then who is it, Lady Anne, that you are trying to attract the attention of?"

"I think that is evident, Your Grace," she replied evenly, knowing that Catherine of Aragon was by no means a fool; Anne could all but see the cogs within her brain turning.

"Ah," Catherine stated after just a moment, a small smile forming upon her lips, "you are aiming for the heart of the King."

Queen Margaret had been no friend to Catherine though no enemy either; and she always held unfaithful men in distaste, knowing the heart break it caused their wives but if a situation were to play to hers and her darling daughter's advantage then perhaps she could accept – or at least learn to live with – such evil.

For if she helped this Anne Boleyn, who so easily seemed to have her husband; Lord Henry Percy; the King, now she recalled 'The Château Vert' and the longing that seemed to have arised in the eyes of the said man ever since and so many other courtiers she would have the ear of a woman who could potentially become incredibly influential; with the way the King and Queen's marriage was going Anne may even become Queen.

If Catherine were to plot with her, assist her, she could be the faithful friend to a Queen, she could help Mary achieve an advantageous marriage, perhaps even to a younger son of a King as with Mary's titles and his prestige her daughter could rise high.

"I believe I may be of help with your mission to win the affections of the King, Lady Anne." 

**My longest and definitely my favourite chapter so far! What do you think of the Catherine/Anne friendship? Will it last? What of Queen Margaret VS Anne?**

 **If you are enjoying my book then please review**


	7. Chapter 7

**Review Replies:**

 **TheWandmaker:** thank you, I wanted to try something different and have not seen any OC is Henry's older brother books so I wanted to be original yes… it does seem that Margaret's brother is up to no good, there will be more to do with that soon! I believe so to, that given the chance Anne could have become a mother to as many as they so desired.

 **Imperial Dragon:** thank you when I first began this good I had never planned an Anne/Catherine friendship but two highly intelligent, respectable women who keep their families (eg their daughters) above all else would make excellent allies and, I think, good friends.

 **Guest:** thank you, I'm glad to know that you're enjoying the story and never fear, Edmund will _not_ be just like Henry, within this chapter I think you'll be able to tell just how different he really is. I absolutely love writing this story and am so happy to know that many are enjoying it

 **A/N Anne and Edmund's relationship will start to pick up a bit of pace, I hope you don't think it's moving too fast as just remember how fast Anne and Henry's progressed in Season 1**

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **12** **th** **July 1522**

 _ **Greenwich Palace**_

At court it was a time to celebrate, for their King was more than joyful and out of the rather sullen mood that had encased him after his brother-in-law's betrayal.

For he had a son.

His son was not legitimate nor a contender for the throne but instead living proof that the problem was not within him; that her were no less a man than any other, perfectly capable of siring healthy sons.

"His name," the King declared, standing upon a table with a goblet of wine within his hands and a large smile adorning his lips, "is Charles Fitzroy and upon his second year he shall be made Duke of Richmond and Lennox. He is my son!"

The court cheered for it's King, caring not for the fact that the some as illegitimate (though he would no doubt be looked down upon at a later date) but rather at the proof their King could have a son, at the fact they would be lavished in festives for the boy's birth.

Not far away Catherine, Duchess of Somerset and Countess of Hereford, tapped her food eight times upon the floor, in a rhythm, and somewhere, in the east of the room; Anne Boleyn strolled past the table upon which the King stood on, his eyes following her movements before following after her.

Then all Catherine was left with was a sulking husband on the factor that his bastard nephew would be a double Duke whereas he was a Duke and Earl, mentally rolling her eyes the highly intelligent Infanta settled herself into simply observing; wondering if such a ceremony would have been made for a bastard should she and Henry have been King and Queen.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

His head could not clear of anything but her, of how he could hear the clanging of her feet against the stone hallway; of how this was so similar to a dream he had not long ago.

"Anne!" Edmund called out, "Anne!"

Yet he could not see or hear her anymore, until he heard the soft close of a door – just loud enough for him to hear – at the next corner he was to round. Breaking out into a jog the one and thirty year old King swiftly rounded the corridor and opened the door into a room.

It was one he had, most surprisingly, never entered before and was richly decorated with a warm fire that she seemed to stand near, basking in the heat as she leant against the wall. Taking several long strides forward, alcohol and desire taking up his every movement he walked to her; looking into her hooking eyes before slamming his lips to hers.

The kiss was only one sided for a matter of seconds before passion ensued and the two were kissing, hungrily, desperately like two dessert people starved of water as they battled for dominance with their tongues. It spoke of things he could not form into words, _I desire you, I care for you_ and she _I think I'm liking you more than I should, I desire you_.

His hands touched every part of exposed flesh, the top of her chest, running his figures along her heaving bosom and figures trailing up her thigh and the other attempting to open up her corset.

That was until she stopped it, most reluctantly but stopped it none the less, pushing against him with her hands and setting inches between the two.

"Stop," she heaved out as the fire of desire grew to an explosion within his eyes, "my virtue will go _only_ to my husband."

His eyes leaked frustration as he pulled himself away, seemingly pacing to rid himself of any Tudor temper that sought to come to the surface, "I cannot offer you that, Lady Anne, you know that."

His eyes pleaded with hers yet she would not let her resolve weaken, she saw it in his eyes back there – the length of his desires for her, his not just want but growing _need_ for her; she could win this game and not lose everything in the process, if she played her cards right – she would not give in, "my maiden head will be saved for my husband, Your Majesty."

She bowed low and stared up at him through her eye lashes, watching as his darker than normal eyes raked her figure, Queen Margaret may win many battles due to her status and home country; but Anne was determined to win the war.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **13** **th** **July 1522**

 _ **Greenwich Palace**_

"You are sure?" Lady Catherine Tudor inquired of Anne as the two sat upon the seats that adored the abandoned room that they seemed to take for their own, "you haven't offended him by rejecting him or made him loose his intrest?"

As Anne replied to Catherine she attempted to forget the fact that this was they very room where in which last night's events had transpired, "I am sure. If anything his eyes were filled with determination, even more interested than he had ever been previously."

"And you said your maidenhead would only go to your husband?" At Anne's nod Catherine retreated to her thoughts. If Anne was right, if Edmund was filled with this determination then she knew hers and Mary's fortunes would soon be greater than ever before. For Henry could no longer desire this enchanting woman if she were the King's wife; for she would be the beloved friend of the Queen of England and her daughter Anne's favourite niece. Yes, Catherine was almost certain that she had the winning side, the closest ally to the future Queen of England, Scotland, France and Lady of Ireland.

However when her mother, the former Queen Isabella I of Castille, consort of Aragon, was educating her on how to be a Queen she had also told her of how quickly one can also fall without the backing of a royal family.

Catherine decided she would give it a month, observe the likes of a budding relationship between the King, Edmund, and Lady Anne Boleyn and if there was then the Duchess of Somerset, Countess of Hereford would begin to assist the Lady Anne in raking in powerful allies.

But first, she should make sure Anne was not to fall from grace, for Catherine could not afford to fall with her; not with little six year old Mary sorely dependant on her for love now that her father chose his attempts of wooing women over 'his pearl'.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

Queen Margaret sighed out as she watched Edmund leap off of his horse to kiss the hand of a strangely beautiful woman – Anne Boleyn, they called her – before lifting her up onto his horse and getting on behind her before the two, accompanied by a hunting party, galloped off into the woods.

The Queen Consort found herself consistently reassuring herself that all would be fine; more than fine in fact. She, Princess Eudokia of Russia, was now Queen Margaret of England and nobody could replace her; not even a European looking beauty.

And Edmund was yet to ask of her a divorce or annulment, nay, she should stop jumping to such conclusions.

Then there was the factor that Princess Isabel and Princess Cecily would be coming to court in just under two months' time for their father's two and thirty birthday celebrations. That was the best plan of all, even if her husband was considering the thought of being rid of her he loved his daughters far too much to intentionally cause them any pain. She would tell Princess Isabel of how cruel her father was being; of the harpy they called enchanting; of how terrible her mother was feeling.

With the eldest Princess onside and the younger surely to follow in Isabel's footsteps Edmund would never forsake her; Anne Boleyn would not win the war.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

Edmund had waited until the hunting party became focused on something other than him and Lady Anne, and finally that thing came: a deer. While his peers were off hunting said deer he quickly spurred the horse in a different direction.

"Edmund wha-"

Any question of Anne's was cut off by the feeling of him pressing his lips to the back of her head before whispering in her ear, "you'll have to wait and see, my lady."

The endearment seemed to take them both slightly by surprise but he smiled warmly into her hair as they finally came to rest upon a clearing of a meadow.

It was undeniably beautiful and Anne found herself rather taken aback by the fact that he had brought her here and that she had never found it whilst out riding previously.

A question seemed to arise from her lips but Edmund answered before she could even ask, "my mother showed me this place she came here when she longed to get away from court; I'd always felt so special as I was the only one she'd ever shown."

Anne couldn't refrain her face from displaying slight wonder at the revelation. She had heard of how much Edmund had loved his mother and of his devastation at her loss but seeing Edmund vulnerable up close had nothing to the stories. When had she started thinking of him as Edmund instead of 'the King', she mustn't, she must always keep a hardened heart.

Deciding to lighten the mood she queried with a grin, "is this where you take all the ladies of court to get them in your bed?"

"Why? Is it working?" His inquiries were questioned with a smirk as he snaked his arms around her waist. She offered him no affirmation as she laid a head back onto his chest.

As his head came to sit atop hers she could hear his words as their dark hairs were tussled in the light July breeze, "only you, my love."

And within that moment, perhaps more than one heart thawed.

 **What did you think of the Anne/Edmund moments? Will Margaret or Anne win the war of hearts? Is Margaret up to more? Who are Catherine and Anne's potential allies?**

 **If you're enjoying them please review**

 **P.S I totally need a certificate, that's two updates for today XD and if I were, perhaps after this story or whenever, to make another Tudor story what would you guys be interested in? I want something quite Anne-centric and was thinking of doing one of those if she hadn't miscarried ones but I don't know, it's not very original… Anyways, have a great Friday!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Review Replies:**

 **The Wandmaker:** yeah, I've always thought of Edmund and Anne as almost eggs I guess, hard exterior but can't put themselves back together when they've been opened; I believe that Edmund is well on his way to loving her but I think Anne is still trying to distance herself. As for Edmund's temper, yes, I would say it's more even but _only_ because he knows how to control it. Edmund too has the infamous Tudor temper and there will be a time when you will see it Totally agree, poor little Henry is lost and vying for power at the moment and trust me, I have got something arranged for our current Queen ;)

 **Big Allen:** yes, we will be seeing more of Edmund interacting with his Scottish subjects sometime soon but first we need to begin to sort out this Margaret/Edmund/Anne triangle

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **1** **st** **September 1522**

 _ **Whitehall Palace: the Queen's Chambers**_

Queen Margaret's eyes roamed the room as she were lost within her thoughts. Princesses Isabel and Cecily would be arriving to Whitehall today for their father's two and thirty birthday celebrations the next day; and. they were her greatest chance of redemption.

It was almost too well known throughout England of King Edmund's love – no, adoration even – of his young daughters who never failed to put a Cheshire grin upon his face. If Margaret had them upon her side, she would win every battle.

"Is there anything else you desire, Your Majesty?" The Lady Anne Boleyn inquired after having fetched a bowl of water for the Queen to wash her face in this September morning. Margaret eyed the woman for a moment before she stated, almost dismissingly,

"He shall tire of you, he always does," Anne would be a fool to not know of whom her words implied and her nearing black eyes narrowed upon the Queen, "I see nothing special, _вы великая наложница_."

"I am no concubine," Anne stated defensively her words almost coming out as a hiss; before she could react, however, the Queen's had struck her across the face, rage upon Margaret's face.

The Queen used her taller height in an attempt to intimidate the shorter woman as the almost yelled out, "I am the Queen. You will call me Your Majesty; you will not speak unless spoken to! Do you understand? Do. You. Understand?!"

Anne spoke no words, she would not bow as they Queen wished her to nor apologise when there was a growing red bruise upon her face; she may be no Queen but the always bold youngest Boleyn would accept abuse from no one.

She could see the Queen's hand twitch but the trumpets of the arrival of the Princesses cut any other acts of violence from her head, finding herself rushing unusually eagerly towards the source of the sounds; but not before Margaret's final words to the woman were said, "as long as I have my daughters, as long as they side with me; I will _always_ win."

And Anne couldn't help but feel the fear of the truth. She may have gained his love within these past few months but it wouldn't grant her the crown; not if it would hurt Edmund's daughters in the process.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

Putting her hand to her throbbing cheek Anne continued down the corridor that would lead her to the chambers of the Duchess of Somerset, Countess of Hereford and her latest – and probably only, bar Edmund and her siblings – friend.

However her walking was stopped by a small tug upon her dress, dark eyes looking down she saw a most beautiful child of perhaps 1 and ½ to 2, the little girl had beautiful golden ringlets and eyes as rich as the peridot stone; she was the Princess Cecily, she soon realised, Edmund's youngest daughter with Margaret.

As the wide, innocent eyes stared into her borderline black ones the little girl's mouth raised into only the brightest of smiles as she declared, "pwetty."

Anne couldn't help but let her lips be pulled up to a smile at the young child who called her a most adorable version of 'pretty'.

She curtsied to the little girl, making the small child giggle as she stated, "not as pretty as you, Your Highness."

"Princess Cecily!" Came the exasperated voice of Lady Byran as she came rushing over after her charge, when she saw Anne she seemed to tense up, as if thinking the King's favourite would do the little girl harm; Anne was offended she would even presume such a thing, "I hope she wasn't a nuisance, Lady Anne, she is quite mischevious."

Mustering a smile was easy at the looked at the youngest Princess, "she was an absolute darling, Lady Byran, and I trust you are most proud of your charge."

The Governess' eyes seemed to grow wide, "indeed, Lady Anne."

"Ywo Anne?" The little girl inquired as she gazed up at the woman her Governess was speaking to, the nice lady who was pretty and, in Cecily's opinion, had very pretty eyes.

The woman grinned at her, tucking her skirts as she crouched down so she was only a little bit taller than Cecily herself, "yes, I am Anne Boleyn, Your Highness."

"I CeCe!" The little girl declared, not fully able to pronounce the name 'Cecily' as she could 'Anne'.

"I must go," Lady Byran stated, grabbing onto the Princess' hand of whom quickly tried to get away from her and back to Anne, "the King wishes to see both her and her elder sister, good morrow, Lady Anne."

"And you, Lady Byran," Anne bid, almost not noticing the way the older woman eyed her bruise while she gave the Princess one last smile, giving the now giggling girl another curtsey before she resumed her way to Catherine's chambers; perhaps not all would be lost.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

When Anne arrived Catherine was with Mary. Catherine acknowledged the youngest Boleyn and told Mary to say hello.

The six year old girl did a small curtsey and offered the woman an unsure smile, once her mother had been so against the woman – apparently her papa had taken an interest in her – but now she called the woman a friend and an ally. She would not lie, the girl of six found herself slightly confused and would later seek God's help to see her through her confusion and to see the light.

Replying in another curtsey and stating, "Lady Mary," the six-year old awarded her with a more genuine smile before she left with her Governess for her Latin lesson.

As soon as the young girl had left the doors Catherine motioned for Anne to sit; Anne, however, looked around. Seeing her uncertainty and clear fear of being overheard Catherine reassured, "my husband is out chasing whores at the local tavern and not many others visit me; other than my dear Chapuys."

Nodding the younger woman took a seat upon the rich red chair, turning to Catherine as the woman inquired as to how her mission was going; seducing the King of England, gaining the crown.

She did not regularly update her family of the progress she made, for she could not trust them all. Thomas Boleyn cared more for power than any love for family; Mary, bless her, could not keep a single thing to herself; her Uncle, Thomas Howard 3rd Duke of Norfolk, was much like her father and her darling George was being requested to bring any information to her uncle and father.

Therefore Catherine, it seemed, her more than unlikely friend, was her only confidant.

However when Anne was clearly lost in her thoughts, not answering her question, Catherine went to query again only to see a purple turning bruise upon her friend's face.

She breathed in sharply, "what is that Anne? Did Edmun-"

"It was not him," Anne informed her, shaking her head swiftly in order to get the thoughts from Catherine's mind, "it was Queen Margaret that struck me."

Catherine seemed taken aback for a moment before her gaze became calculating, this could be used to their own advantage; Anne seemed to realise so too.

"The King will dine with the Queen tonight, Her Majesty has implored that he should and he was fed up of her asking," Catherine stated – adding in the last bit at Anne's hurt look, how could that woman say she bore no liking for the King she did not know – the wheels in the brains of both women turning, "and if you are to show your face, if he is to see the bruise then she will fall even more out of favour."

For a moment, Anne longed to allow herself to believe the chance was real but then sighed, telling Catherine, "Margaret," she began, ignoring Catherine's look at treating the Queen with such disrespect, even if neither women liked her, "said something to me today. That as long as his daughters were on her side, as long as she had them he would not leave her. Not if it caused them pain."

Both Catherine and Anne were forced to acknowledge this statement as true. The King, like any man, was desperate for a male heir but not to the point of people like Henry; he would not let his daughters suffer in what might be a fruitless mission. Nay, they would have to find a way to win the affections of the Princesses Isabel and Cecily, "have you had any interactions with either Princess?"

At Catherine's inquiry Anne smiled a bit at the memory of the youngest, sweet Princess, "yes, Princess Cecily. I met her before coming here, she called me 'pretty' and was clearly quite besotted with me. She is a very sweet child."

"Yes, she is," Catherine smiled at the thought of her youngest niece, "Princess Isabel, however, may be harder to win over if she thinks you threaten her family; for a girl of four she is much attentive and well knowledged. But if _you_ have the Princesses on side, the Queen's fall shall not be far away."

Anne nodded and bided Catherine goodbye as she realised that she was due back at her Lady-In-Waiting duties whilst Catherine was off to talk to Chapuys, now certain that Anne was a friend and determined to talk to him of the extraordinary woman and how she could benefit Spain and the Holy Roman Empire; even if Catherine knew that she was first, and probably always would be, a friend of France.

Neither seemed to notice the factor that Lady Hastings, a Lady-In-Waiting to Catherine but a friend to the Queen had returned from the break Catherine had given her Ladies early; nor that she had heard every word spoken and was now off to inform Queen Margaret.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

After being informed of the nature of conversation the Queen Margaret stormed through the hallways, courtiers scattering and bowing swiftly as she made her way to her husband, the King's, offices with great haste.

"Inform His Majesty that I am here and that I require an immediate audience, now," she demanded of the herald who nodded quickly and headed into the King's office. There had been a time where she had not required such announcements, a time where even if there wasn't love there was respect; yet it seemed as if that time existed no longer.

The doors were soon opened as her title was announced and she strolled in to a rather impatient looking husband of hers, holding her head high the former Princess of Russia now Queen of England, Scotland and France, Lady of Ireland went up to him.

"What is it, Margaret?" He questioned causing the woman to feel rather bitter at his tone, which was no way to speak to a Queen, his Queen! She knew he would have rather been talking to his concubine.

"Your mistress disrespected me today, I wish her gone from my service," Margaret stated coldly as she began to examine the study her husband was in so frequently during this war with France.

Edmund's eyes narrowed, "she is not my mistress, Margaret, but I will talk to her now."

And the King was telling the truth, he could not have her disrespecting Margaret; not when it would make his love look bad and not the Queen. Those who adored the current Queen would not take kindly to her if it was known that she spoke out of turn to her.

Margaret's eyes seemed to look nervous, perhaps even fearful. He would see what she had done to Anne Boleyn; the purple of a hand print still remained upon her cheek and Margaret could not afford to fall any further out of favour with him. He could not see it.

Only Edmund had seen the fear that resided in his Queen's eyes and was now further determined to see the source, to see of what she had done, "I will see you tonight, Margaret."

And with that he was gone, and Margaret knew that she could not beg him to stop, prevent him from finding out as it would only make him wish to see more; nay, Margaret may be a Queen but she is powerless as to stop him from finding out her sin.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

When the herald had announced the King's arrival to her chambers Anne had not been expecting it. She had thought she would see him tonight, have to place herself carefully in order for him to see the bruise upon her face; he may call her 'my love' but he tried to not be obvious in his affections in front of others, wanting to shield her from any hate. Yet many knew or suspected of the King of England's feelings for her.

As he strode in, however, he stopped short at the hand mark bruise upon her face; knowing all too well who had been responsible for it. The woman he married, harming the woman he wished he was married to.

Taking long strides over as he delicately and tentively touched it before placing a light kiss upon the face that's throbbing hand not ended.

"She shall not hurt you again Anne, I love thee," and with those threes the cage that Anne had placed her heart in had begun to shatter; the iron bars disappearing into oblivion as she claimed his lips as her own.

 **Will Anne gain the love and support of the Princesses? What do you think of little Cecily? Who's your favourite character? Who do you want to see more of? Tell me in the reviews ;)**

 **Oh, and I was thinking of starting a book if Elizabeth Woodville and King Edward IV's had a son who had survived, battled King Richard and became King instead of King Henry VII. What do you think? Would you be interested?**

 **If you enjoyed this chapter then please review, favourite and follow for more updates**

 **Hoping to see you all next chapter,**

 **Have a great day/night,**

 **-LadyHallows.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Review Replies:**

 **The Wandmaker:** _Thank you, I'm loving little Cecily she's so sweet; we'll be seeing some of Isabel in this chapter!_

 **Invitada:** _why do you hope she will end up with Henry? And it's great that you know another language! I wish I could speak French or Russian!_

 **Guest:** _Thank you but I think you're a little confused, but England does not have the same laws as France with it only going through male heirs – it would first go through his children then to Henry and his children, then to Margaret and her children, then to Mary and her children. (Forgive me if I'm wrong but I do believe that is the case)._

 **Big Allen:** _yes, Edmund does have battle armour and yes, it has a crown on it XD._

 **Imperial Dragon:** _yeah, she did go a bit far :(, I'm definitely looking forward to writing of Anne's relationship with the girls. Thank you, I have seen your reviews and thank you for being such an avid reader of my historical books, you have no idea how much it means to me._

 **Angie87:** _Thank you :), I'm really glad to hear you're enjoying the book and thank you for taking the time to review; well, welcome to next chapter and perhaps there will be another Anne story after I finish 'The Second Tudor King', 'Song of the Rivers' and/or 'Under The Third York Son, the latter of the two about a very brilliant TV show about the 'White Queen', there is also a book written by Philippa Gregory. And it's great that you're a French reader! I wish I could speak another language and am fascinated by the French monarchy. You'll be seeing some of them in 1525 ;)_

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **2** **nd** **September 1522**

 _ **Whitehall Palace**_

Princess Isabel of England, the Heiress Presumptive to the throne of England, was by no means a stupid girl. Both she and her little sister were known to excel in their learning, though Cecily had little to learn at the age of 1 and ½, and she did notice the distance that seemed to grow between her parents.

She loved both her mama and papa dearly but it was her papa who spent the most time with her, her mama only saw them when necessary and when she visited with papa, therefore being summoned to her mama's chambers was more than a little strange to the young Princess.

Before the doors were opened to her the herald announced, "Princess Isabel Tudor of England and of France," and with that the young girl walked in, head held high.

Unlike Cecily who was even short at her young age, her height presumed to have been inherited from her maternal grandmother as both their parents were tall of height, Isabel was of the tallest girls of her age – even taller than her cousin Mary had one summer on her!

Therefore she held her head high, determined, as she walked into her mother's chambers unaware of what she would face within. When she strolled in there was nobody there, the herald, who had seemingly announced her to nobody, just shrugged at her and the young Princess sight, having got her hopes up that it was that her mama wanted to _actually_ spend some time with her, before a shrill yell was heard from the inner chamber.

The herald tried to stop the young Princess from walking further in, but to no avail as she simply ordered him away and he was forced to oblige, no Ladies-In-Waiting were there so clearly something big was going on – they had all been dismissed.

Strolling up the door she pressed her ear to it, as she and Mary so often had when they had heard Uncle Henry and Aunt Catherine's yelling voices, and listened.

"You struck her, Margaret, you stuck her!" Her papa's normally calm voice was now loud and filled with evident fury, evidently directed at her mama. Princess Isabel was tempted to go in there, to help him calm down or to take her mama away from the wrath that she was so clearly at the end of – but before she could decide what course of action she was going to take, the yelling resumed.

It was her mama's voice this time, "she deserved it, she's your whore!"

Isabel let out a little gasp at her mother's words, Lady Byran had told her that it was a very naughty word. Why was her mama saying naughty words? What does it mean?

"She is not, Margaret! She refuses to be so don't try to paint her as if she were the devil! It is you who is filled with sin, not my Anne."

"'my Anne'?! So you love her then! You love that witch, I bet you'd rather be married to her right now!"

"You're right, I would. The only reason I'm still in this marriage that keeps on pulling me down is because I don't want to upset Isabel and Cecily, I don't want them to be hurt by it. I tried, Margaret! I tried to make it work but you were so focused on Russia that you didn't give a damn for the country you were Queen of. You don't give a damn about the girls either, you hardly ever see them but they adore you! She would love them, even little Charles Fitzroy, and children of her own far better than you ever could hope to!"

Princess Isabel pulled her ear from the door as she heard the yelling resume.

She had heard about the Lady Anne Boleyn, after all, who hadn't? But when she and Cecily – who could simply not stop talking about the 'pwetty, kiend' woman – had asked Lady Byran of whom she was she had said she was like Lady Katherine Grey, Charles' mother, a woman who he would soon not care for.

Only that didn't seem to be the case.

Her Governess had told her the stories of great love, read her to bed with stories of fair Princesses and brave Princes and she had longed since dreamed of a love story of her own; even if Lady Byran had told her that Princesses cannot and should not fall in love.

But if her papa felt true love for this woman, if he felt she could display maternal affection that her mama had never given to her, then perhaps, just _perhaps_ she could like this woman; they could be friends at least.

With a smile filled with hope and of curiosity the Princess of but four years headed down the palace in search of this mysterious woman that they called Lady Anne Boleyn.

 **ET-ET-ET-ET**

 _Dear Brother,_

 _I know you are currently stationed in France therefore I have wrote to warn you of England and Spain's planned invasion. I cannot let my country be given to the tyrants; you must speak of this letter to nobody for I am at odds with my husband and, without the girls onside, I fear he shall try for a divorce._

 _Your Loving Sister,_

 _Queen Margaret Tudor of England and of France, Lady of Ireland._

"Take this," Queen Margaret commanded of the latest addition to her Ladies-In-Waiting, yet to even know the girls name, "and make sure it gets off safely with no other possessing it than the deliverer."

The Lady-In-Waiting curtseyed low to the Queen before heading out of the doors, only she did not head to the messengers in the stables but to the King's own chambers; for she was the returned Lady Elizabeth Boleyn nee Howard, whom had once served Queen Consort Elizabeth of York and mother to Mary, George and Anne Boleyn.

Nay, that letter was not heading to Russia but instead into the hands of the King of England, whose rage was to be known by all that night – the Tudor temper he had done so well to stifle being opened and released as if it had been waiting, brewing since the time of the Pharaohs of Egypt.

Little did Queen Margaret know that today would be her undoing, today the crown would be even more certain to lay upon the woman she had once called in her native tongue a 'concubine'.

 **ET-ET-ET-ET**

Princess Isabel was, to be perfectly honest, confused as to where on earth Lady Anne Boleyn would be. She had searched the hall to which Lady Byran had said the woman had been a frequent within, very sociable, though her Governess had been more than confused as to why the Princess was seeking her out she knew better than to question it.

After checking the hall she had asked a rather kind looking man – whom called himself George, her brother – as to where she was and he had directed her to the gardens and had offered to take the young girl to the gardens to make sure she did not get lost.

She had declined, determined to find her on her own and become more independent, she wanted people to see she was no longer a little girl! And now she very much regretted not taking that offer up.

Trying to stifle the tears of fear working their way down the little girl's creamy, slightly chubby with baby fat, face she walked and walked and called out.

But she ended up upon the floor, her salty tears disappearing into the luscious green grass upon that summer midday of her papa's birthday and simply cried.

She was alone, she was afraid and she was not sure as to whether or not she could find her way back to the castle.

"Is that Princess Isabel?" She could hear a voice inquire and she swiftly tried to stifle her sobs, wiping furiously at her eyes. She was a Princess of England, possibly the Heiress, and was determined that her subjects see her as a strong woman rather than the lost little girl she felt like.

She heard footsteps trailing towards her before a voice inquire, "are you lost, Your Highness?"

The small girl looked up to see a strangely beautiful woman. She was not alike to many of the women at court, her skin was a slightly more tanned shade, her hair darker than a raven's feathers and eyes like coals.

"No," Princess Isabel lied, trying to make herself seem stronger, older, but the woman seemed to see straight through her and let out a smirk.

"I used to do the same when I was younger, Your Highness," the woman stated, clearly remembering, and her tone knowing, "I wanted my parents to see that I was just as old as and as good as Mary and George. Make myself seem far more grown up. Sometimes, I have learnt, one merely needs a little help," and that was true. Anne had come to court thinking she would need know other but without the formidable, intelligent woman of whom had once been an Infanta of Spain she doubted she would have made it through these past months, not with all her sanity still in place at least.

Princess Isabel offered her a small smile, though she still believed that she could do things independently and that she _was_ old enough and good enough but the woman was being kind and the young girl saw no reason to scare away the only lady who did not look at her as if she were beneath her, a mere child that they were required to bow to.

"Thanks you," Isabel stated, "Lady…"

"Lady Anne," Anne informed her, offering the young Princess one of her most charming smiles, she needed to win the affection of the young girl even if the young girl – admittedly or not – had already gained her's, "Anne Boleyn."

This time the Princess of England's smile was just as charming and endearing as the woman in front of hers, now determined to find out of whom this woman her papa seemed so in love with was, and if Isabel ever could truly like her; for if not she would soon begin her plans using the adorable tendencies she commonly used to her advantage to win them both open.

Little did either know that Anne was _so_ close to winning the ear; though even as a person on the backbone of the King's unrelenting anger and her daughters slowly being win over by Anne, neither Margaret nor her Russian Prince brother seemed to want to relent their claim upon the throne.

They were all slowly preparing for one final battle.

 **What did you think? Who will win the war? How will Margaret try to prevent the divorce?**

 **Reviews are most appreciated :)**

 **Oh, and if you enjoyed Philippa Gregory's: 'The White Queen' then I have brought out two books that I will be writing based upon its TV show. 'Song of the Rivers' and 'Under The Third York Son'; though don't worry, this book is my 1** **st** **priority, then 'Song of the Rivers', then 'Under The Third York Son'!**

 **I hope to see you all on my other books ;),**

 **Have a great day/night,**

 **-LadyHallows**


	10. Chapter 10

**Review Replies:**

 **Imperial Dragon:** _I think and hope so too :), and yes, Margaret is in big trouble now, especially with Anne getting along with Isabel and Cecily (do you like their names by the way? I love them!)_

 **The Wandmaker:** _Yes Isabel is, I must admit I was unsure as to how to approach Isabel's character whereas Cecily's came so easily to me, over the years you will defiantly be seeing a lot of character development with the Princesses and how they mature with the people around them_

 **Big Allen:** _that is a good idea, using it to highlight the differences between them, you may see a little bit of that in the next chapter ;)_

 **Lots of progress and quite a bit of letter sending in this chapter to help such things along (I think that there is about four but only two have the contents actually written) :)**

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 10 ( A/N damn, that's gone fast!)**

 **4** **th** **November 1522**

 _ **Richmond Palace**_

"What do you mean you cannot get me my divorce?" The King of England, of Scotland and of France, Lord of Ireland declared, his voice evoking fear into Cardinal Wolsey as his voice was low but tone raging "she has committed treason against her country. My daughters, the Princess of England and Scotland, do not even seem attached to her other than her status as their 'mama', I want her gone."

His last words sounded more a threat than a declaration, the King of England's eyes intensely boring into the Lord Chancellor of England's as the woman many knew the King wanted as his wife and Queen instead stood behind him.

Thomas Wolsey couldn't help but be surprised by the factor that, even at the King's threatening and deathly tone, she did not flinch but merely stared at him; her almost black eyes seemed to be almost scanning his soul, as if to see if she deemed the man worthy. And it seemed she didn't.

"I cannot, Your Majesty," Cardinal Wolsey declared with a sigh, tearing his eyes from the younger Boleyn girl, "Queen Margaret's brother has switched his allegiance to the Pope, promising him lands and power in the Kingdom of Russia in return for not granting Your Majesty a divorce."

Edmund stopped his argument at the Lord Chancellor's words, seeing of what the Grand Prince Vasili III of Moscow had done. He had bought the Pope's favour with lands and titles – and the Grand Prince commanded far more land than Edmund did, if he were to try to better Vasili's offer then he would have to give the Pope half of England, perhaps more still.

"Send it," Edmund stated, thrusting a letter into the surprised hands of Cardinal Wolsey, who looked at him with a face of bewilderment, "if the Pope is not to grant me a divorce then he shall know of the consequences."

From the sound of Edmund's voice the Cardinal was left – once both the King and Lady Anne left - to pray that the Pope did grant him the divorce the King wished for; or else he feared what the consequences would have on England.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

"What will you do?" Anne enquired as the two lay within his bedchambers – nothing that wasn't of innocence, of course, no matter his intense desire for her she would not yield her maidenhead to anybody that wasn't her husband – instead they merely lay entwined within each other's arms.

Edmund, who has been laying with an arm covering his borderline glowing blue eyes opened them and turned to face Anne completely, "I have seen you, with a book."

Anne's expression turned to confusion, her eyes of midnight gazing at him incredulously, "I have read and held many books, Edmund."

They had long since passed first name basis' within these past few months, a factor that quite infuriated the Duke of Somerset and Earl of Hereford of whom seemed to have taken to positively glowering at the mere mention of his elder brother's name.

"It's a specific book," Edmund continued as Anne rolled her eyes at his vagueness, "one written by Martin Luther."

Her eyes seemed to comically widen as she lifted herself up from the silk bed sheets, her hair falling into a mess as she stared at him in disbelief and something he'd never hoped to see within her eyes, even less so directed at him: fear.

"I-,"

He cut off the explanation that would surely be one of lies to retain her neck upon her shoulders, instead querying, "might you be inclined to let me borrow it, Anne?"

Her lips turned up into a slight smirk after just a moment of shock as she sauntered off to get the book, knowing that this would be the beginning of the changes she would make to England, beginning with her own religious beliefs.

She did not even notice the endearment at the end of her words as she so naturally reassured him, "I will be back shortly, my love."

Leaving a most satisfied smile upon the King's face, for he had always told her of his love for her, his adoration for her; and now he knew that it was not all based on loose hope or a father's ambition – nay, but upon true feeling even if she was yet to truly admit it herself.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **7** **th** **November 1522**

 _ **Apostolic Palace, Vatican City**_ **then** _ **Grand Kremlin Palace, Russia**_

"A letter for Your Holiness," one of the Cardinals of Pope Adrian VI announced as they passed on the letter to their master, leaving to head back to the church as the Pope unsealed the letter.

His eyes seemed to scan the letter with a face of boredom before that face became increasingly pale as the letter carried on, his eyes lingering upon the threat upon the end.

Turning to a servant he told them to bring his ink and paper as well as to send for a messenger, this letter was not a reply to England but to Russia, querying as to the extent that the current Queen Consort of England could exercise over the King and as to if she could stop the King with going through with the threat contained within the letter – that is Pope Adrian VI would not grant the King his divorce then Edmund would break with Rome and change to the ways of Martin Luther, and he simply could not allow that to happen.

The letter had been sent from Italy in the early hours of the morning, reaching Moscow at dusk when a breathless messenger handed the letter the Grand Prince Vasili III of Moscow of whom took the letter within his hands and within mere seconds of reading it too began to scribble a letter with haste, knowing of what hung in the balance.

 _To my dearest sister, the rightful and only Queen Consort of England, of Scotland and of France, Lady of Ireland,_

 _I regret to inform you_

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **9** **th** **November 1522**

 _ **Richmond Palace, England**_

 _of the steps your husband is to take in divorcing you. He has threatened to break with Rome. Sister, I have offered the Pope much and I will ensure that France honours the allegiance and will support no other Queen than you but this is getting serious._

 _Make him fall for you, use any influence you have little sister,_

 _Vasili III,_

 _Grand Prince of Moscow._

Despite her brothers words, of him telling her to get her husband to fall for her she knew a plan as such would not work in the slightest; nay, not while he was still enamoured by this Lady Anne Boleyn of whom they claimed he was inclined to raise to the title of Marquess of Pembroke within her own right; something that would put her only behind the Queen and Princesses in power of the women of the court.

But she could not lose this battle, she could not lose this war. With her brother's influence over the Pope a divorce would not be settled and she was certain that Edmund would not dare part from the Pope, such a thing would be a bigger sin than any other.

Nay, she would have to enchant him, have to gain back whatever small part of his heart she had in her grasp after their three and ten years' worth of marriage. If not she could simply result to being enchanting, she knew well that he had once found her more than attractive, and hopefully – even though all hope seemed lost with her complications after the birth of the Princess Cecily and her reputation for numerous miscarriages and stillbirths – she could force a babe into her empty womb; he could not forsake her then.

However any and all hope was soon lost to her as guards, led by a rather uncomfortable looking Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, came into her rooms; the said Duke holding a role of parchment.

"Queen Margaret Tudor nee Eudokia Ivanovich of England and of France, Lady of Ireland you are placed upon house arrest on orders of His Majesty, King Edmund Tudor of England and of Ireland, Lord of France and are not to leave and are to be guarded until His Majesty sees fit to release you due to your recent treasonous offenses."

Margaret's mouth opened in shock as a tray of food – even if it was wonderful food upon it – was placed upon her table and as the Duke and guards left, the bolting of her door being heard from behind them as the Queen Consort struggled to regain her composure.

And with that final click of the door being locked, Anne Boleyn was one final battle away from becoming England's Queen.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

"Cousin, what is it that faces in opposition to the ending of my marriage to Margaret?" Edmund enquired of one of his closest confidants and maternal cousin, the said man – Thomas Grey, 2nd Marquess of Dorset – seemed to eye Anne for a minute, clearly hesitant to speak of the matter in front of her.

But then Edmund's assurance came, "whatever you wish to say to me you may say in front of Anne," a small sile was exchanged between the couple and Thomas began to answer.

"Well there is the Grand Prince Vasili III of Moscow and King Francis I of France's alliance in the way, with France on side even if you do get your divorce France will not recognise your new Queen for the sake of the alliance, of which France is – like the Pope – gaining land and title. Then there is the matter of the Pope not granting you your divorce at all, one of my spies has informed me that the Pope has chosen to deny such a request."

At the sounds of the Pope's refusal Edmund felt immense annoyance, knowing that the actions he would take could consequence in a religious civil war within England but he simply must, he would tear this country apart more times than one could ever hope to count for Anne. In the past thirteen months he had known Anne Boleyn, having spent the past seven all but worshipping at her altar he simply had to have her; had to be able to be with the woman he loved above any other.

"Thomas, have an announcement made," Edmund stated, his voice displaying confidence despite his concerns of the consequences within the countries he ruled over, especially Scotland of where Protestantism was far less popular than it was in England – not that it was popular there either, only to the East of England was it truly practised, "England and Scotland are breaking their bonds to Rome and the Pope, converting to Protestantism and I shall be head of the Church of England. Is that understood?"

Thomas Grey tried his hardest to keep him mouth from falling open at the declaration of the King but simply nodded at the King's question, heading off to the stables to get riders to head to every inch of England and inform them.

England and Scotland are to no longer be a Catholic nations.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 _Dear my friend,_

 _As a fellow ruler I am writing to you in an offer of allegiance as I do believe we have much to gain from one another._

 _I know of your allegiance with the Grand Prince Vasili III of Moscow due to the land and title he is giving to you, and I would like you to stop you allegiance with him and become the ally of England and Scotland instead._

 _For such a matter I offer the hand of my youngest daughter, the Princess Cecily of England to your son and heir. For this marriage Cecily will be given the English title of Duchess of Lancaster which will be shared with her husband at their marriage and be given as a title to the second son, or second heir at the death of the Princess Cecily but until then it will belong to France. I also offer you the use of Calais, though it will still belong to me you shall be able to use it for transport and trading and will remain that way through all the rulers of France._

 _In return I ask that you support my betrothed as Queen, the Lady Anne Boleyn, soon-to-be Marquess of Pembroke, and do not fight me in the matter of changing my country to one of Protestantism._

 _I hope these terms shall be agreed,_

 _With love,_

 _Edmund Tudor,_

 _King of England, of Scotland and of France; Lord of Ireland._

And with that the letter was to be sent.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **10** **th** **November 1522**

 _ **Château de Versailles, France**_

"V _otre Majesté_ ," the messenger from England respectfully stated, providing the French King with a shallow bow as he passed the King the letter from Edmund.

Seeing the royal seal of England and Scotland Francis' eyebrows raised a faction as he dismissed the messenger, opening it up with the curious eyes of his wife, Queen Claude upon him.

Reading it his lips turned up into an amused grin as he scanned the letter, before they turned interested upon his fellow King's offer and shocked at the fact that Edmund's countries were turning from Catholic to Protestant.

King Francis I of France took a moment to think upon such an agreement. He was a devout Catholic and the idea of another country turning away from the Pope frankly disgusted him, especially since he was not sympathetic towards Protestant beliefs but there was no denying the factor that England was turning into an Empire. It had claimed Scotland and still held the title of King of France as well as holding Calais.

To gain you would have to loose, and Francis had much to gain, ordering his own writing materials to him he thought of what this alliance could bring him.

 **What do you think? Has Anne truly won the war? What will happen to Margaret? Will Francis agree? Is Isabel to be betrothed? If Cecily is to be betrothed will they get along?**

 **Find out in the chapters to come but tell me what you think will happen :)**

 **A/N at the divorce of Edmund and Margaret Isabel and Cecily will** **not** **be delegitimised as it is a divorce not annulment meaning that the marriage was made in good faith just that the spouse has committed a crime in order to need said divorce (aka treason in Margaret's case).**

 **Until next chapter,**

 **-LadyHallows**

 **PS. I know I said on 'The Boleyn King' that this update would be tomorrow or the next day but I couldn't resist, I** _ **might**_ **even get another one up tonight or at least try to as there will be no updates tomorrow as I need to do the bunch of homework my teachers have piled upon me ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Review Replies:**

 **Imperial Dragon:** _I'm afraid it will be next chapter that answers all your questions about Margaret but I truly believe that you will all love this chapter :)_

 **PatrickMan231:** _thank you! Thanks for reviewing and I'm so glad that you're enjoying the story and I hope that you continue to. Yes, it is going a lot smoother than in history but they will definitely still have some problems. And here is your update, I hope it lives up to your expectations of 'brilliant' XD_

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 11**

 **12** **th** **November 1522**

 _ **Hampton Court Palace, London**_

 _To my dearest friend,_

 _I must say that your alliance comes with many advantages for the both of us. However, I would like to make a negotiation of my own. You are to drop the title of 'King of France' and instead be King Edmund Tudor of England and of Scotland, Lord of Ireland. After all, the title was only in name and do nothing to change the places you are to control._

 _I will support you in your change to Protestantism – even if I do not share in such views myself – and shall recognise the Lady Anne Boleyn when she is to become Queen._

 _As for the betrothal of the Princess Cecily of England and Scotland to my son, Dauphin Francis of France and heir to the Duchy of Brittany I will accept but on the condition of the factor that when Cecily comes to France, at the age of fourteen, she converts to Catholism as it is the religion of my country._

 _In celebration for this alliance and betrothal and to sign the documents I invite you to the Château de Blois upon the first day of the twelfth month to the seventh day of the twelfth month, as well as Lady Anne Boleyn and the Princesses so Francis may meet Cecily._

 _With Love,_

 _Francis I,_

 _King of France._

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **1** **st** **December 1522**

 _ **Château de Blois, Blois, France**_

Dancing, singing and merriment filled the French Court at the Château de Blois as Edmund sat next to Francis upon his own throne, Queen Claude to Francis' right and Lady Anne to Edmund's left.

He could see the smile that lit up Anne's face as she drunk up the court that she had once appeared in as a young girl and did not deter his eyes from admiring the dress she wore, hanging low upon the neckline in such a way that made his desire simply burn for her; and it seemed she knew what he was doing for she turned to him with a coy smile upon her face, eyes looking up at him through long, dark eyelashes.

"You shall be the death of me," he all but growled out as he turned to face the front, bidding his eyes to not look at her as his restraint began to feel lost.

A smirk fell upon her rosy red lips as she stated, "let us dance, my love."

And with that the King and the newly created Marquess of Pembroke headed into the middle of the floor after politely having excused themselves from the presence of the King and Queen of France, feeling many eyes upon them.

The King of France, clearly curious and amused by what would play out called for a Volta to be played, only to add to the smirk held upon the woman that rivalled Aphrodite's – in Edmund's and many others opinon – lips as she circled Edmund all the while keeping his gaze and seductively biting her lower lip, watching as his eyes darkened considerably.

Every single one of the couple's moves seemed to flow with passion and electricity, being closer together than one could think possible in the art of seduction in a game that the youngest Boleyn seemed to win

For when they were finished the King and his Lady Anne were gone and nobody knew were to, even if they could speculate, for in the rooms above there was the seductive, shiver-inducing promise of an heir before lips claimed lips, and soon bodies claimed bodies as they became one.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **11** **th** **January 1522**

 _ **Whitehall Palace, Kent**_

"Has the announcement been made yet?" Anne enquired of her betrothed in all but name as she sat upon his lap, "has it been announced that she is no longer Queen? That we are to be wed?"

Edmund sighed as his hands held her hips in place, looking over at the letter that enquired of the possibility of a betrothal of the Princess Isabel of England and Scotland and the newly widowed King Louis II of Hungary, Croatia and Bohemia who was two and ten years her elder but with not many Princes of her age Edmund felt that he would be a good option, though they would not be wed until Isabel's fourteenth year should the marriage go through, "not yet, my Anne, we have to give people the time to adjust, we are still trying to spread the word of Protestantism in a positive light and ensure that Margaret's treasonous actions are known for the reason for the divorce, so you don't get blamed as the reason."

"We're going to have to speed it up Edmund, for I'm craving apples," she stated, her expression and tone urgent.

Edmund, however, found himself most confused, "Anne, why on earth would we have to speed up a divorce and religious change because you're cravin-," at the end of his mini-speech his mouth popped open into a little 'O', "but it's been just a month since we-,"

"I'm late, I'm craving and you're been visiting my bedchambers or calling me to yours every day since, I'm pregnant and if we are not wed soon people shall call out boy a bastard."

"Marry me," Edmund stated, at Anne's confused look he added, "tonight, this very night. I will send riders out with the announcement that mine and Margaret's marriage is over, damn the consequences, we shall be wed tonight and tomorrow the world will know."

With an excited grin the two grasped hands and Edmund ordered for a horse to be made ready, for tonight Anne Boleyn would become Queen.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 _ **Edward Hall**_

Side by side knelt Anne Boleyn, the Marquess of Pembroke and Edmund Tudor, the King of England and of Scotland, Lord of Ireland. They both kept on shooting each other continuous smiles as the priest stood in front of the duo, all too aware of who they both were and worried out of his wits about possible saying something wrong and encoring the wrath of his King.

The Priest finally spoke, " _Wilt thou have this woman to thy wife, and love her and keep her in siknes and in helthe, and in all other degrees be to her as a husbande sholde be to his wife, and all other forsake for her, and holde the only to her to thy live's ende_?"

Black upon blue the two met, a look of utter devotion and passion flowing between each other's eyes as Edmund spoke, "I will."

" _Wilt thou have this man to thy husbande, and to be buxum to him, serve him and kepe him in syknes and in helthe and in all other degrees be to her as a wife sholde be to his husbande, and all other forsake for her, and holde the only to her to thy live's ende?_ " The Priest enquired of Anne, their witnesses was Anne's sister, Lady Mary Carey nee Boleyn and, most surprisingly to Edmund, Lady Catherine Tudor nee Trastámara.

"I will."

And with that it was time for the spoken vows, a tender hand caressed the cheek of his soon to be bride as he spoke, _"I Edmund Tudor take the Anne Boleyn to my wedded wife, to have and to hold at bedde and at borde, for fairer for fouler, for better for warse, in sekenes and in hele, tyl dethe us depart. And thereto I plyght the my trouthe."_

His words were echoed by the woman who looked at him with such love he felt as if he could survive and thrive upon just that alone, _"I Anne Boleyn take the Edmund Tudor to my wedded wife, to have and to hold at bedde and at borde, for fairer for fouler, for better for warse, in sekenes and in hele, tyl dethe us depart. And thereto I plyght the my trouthe."_

And with that they were proclaimed husband and wife, King and Queen and Edmund carefully swept Anne up into his arms and delivered her with a kiss that spoke of every feeling, every desire, all she was to him – his world – as she looked up to him with a most coy smile, "are we not heading to bed, my love?"

"The child-,"

She gave him a grin as she purred out, "you shall just have to go gently, my love," biting softly at his earlobe upon her last words.

Eyes darkened the two were heading off, back up to the King's Chambers as Lady Mary Carey stared after them with an expression that showed immense shock whereas Catherine watched them go with a satisfied smile.

Their pan had worked and now she would rise with the new Queen.

For, that very morning, every inch of the realms controlled by Edmund heard of the divorce and the remarriage, ending in the tearing down of one Queen and the rise of another.

But the wheel of fortune would keep on turning.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 _ **20**_ _ **th**_ _ **May 1523**_

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich**_

It was a stunning spring day in which Queen Anne Tudor nee Boleyn, Queen of England and of Scotland, Lady of Ireland took to strolling across the beautifully decorated gardens whilst running her swelling stomach of five months as Nan Shelton, her cousin and principle Lady-In-Waiting, loyally following.

As she watched the sun's rays turn the luscious green grass scorched golden it seemed to fit so fluently with the thoughts within her head: _I am at the edge of a golden world_.

"Annie!"

"Anne!"

She heard the yells of the two young girls before she even saw them, their words joyous as they wrapped their arms around her heavily pregnant stomach.

The Princess Isabel of England and of Scotland was recently turned five and was aging up to be a beautiful child with the curling dark red hair of her mother as well as Margaret's heart shaped face and softer features but with Edmund's intense blue eyes that could be rivalled with nothing other than the sapphire gem stone and his creamy skin tone.

She offered Anne a large grin, one canine tooth and another front tooth missing as she turned her view to Anne's stomach as Anne saw Lady Byran's huffing and wheezing form come into view in an attempt to keep up with the Princesses, "is that our baby brother?"

Offering the smaller girl a large smile she place Isabel's – who was not betrothed to the King of Hungary, Croatia and Bohemia: Louis II – hand upon her seemingly ever growing stomach and observing as the small babe delivered a swift kick in response to his half-sister's movement, leaving Anne to cover up a sharp wince.

The two year old Cecily stood upon her tiptoes reached for Anne's stomach, jumping away in shock when the babe kicked for a second time but giggling afterwards and eagerly putting her hand back on.

Once Lady Byran had arrived at the scene, reprimanding the girls for not obeying a protocol of which Anne cared not for and told the woman of such, Anne and the girls were finally left alone to walk within the gardens.

A few, short minutes of silence but for squeals of delight at all the pretty flowers was soon broken when the Princess Cecily's stunning eyes of emerald's shifted up to gaze at Anne, her hair the infamous Tudor red-gold that so many (bar her father and sister) possessed too glinting in the sunlight. The little girl was said to much resemble Elizabeth of York and Elizabeth Woodville, two women praised as the most beautiful of their age.

"Can I call you 'mama'?"

"Cecily," Princess Isabel admonished of her little sister, the intelligent five year old shooting Anne an apology look. While taken aback Anne possessed the ability to neither say nor day anything but once her senses were fully regained the woman let out a large smile that was only seen by those she loved as she gazed down at the two, very, very carefully lowering herself down to their level, cupping her considerable bump as she did so.

She looked at the two girls straight in the eyes as she told them, "I know I will never be able to replace your real mother but I would like to be as much as a mother as I can be to you. I will try my best to make sure you and your siblings are always treated equally and will love you all dearly, no matter what. And Cecily, if you would like to call me 'mama' then of course you can, the same goes for you, Isabel; for you are daughters to me now."

Both girls simultaneously wrapped her into a hug, almost knocking the pregnant Queen off of balance if not for Nan rushing to hold her in place.

Isabel quietly murmured, "love you, mama."

"Not as much as _I_ love you, mama," Cecily declared as she hugged Anne tighter, but the woman caught sight of the tongue the two year old stuck out at her younger sister.

And in that moment, any part of the once icicle protected heart of Anne Boleyn that had remained seemed to thaw around her as she sat, one arm wrapped around her child that was to be born and the other around the two girls that snuggled themselves into her, yearning for the affection of a mother that could truly love them.

And within that moment, Anne Boleyn felt truly complete.

 **Anne won the war! Who is this baby going to be? Is it Elizabeth or different? How will the marriages of Isabel and Cecily be when they come to pass? Will Edmund and Anne stay strong through the years? Will the baby be born soon? Will it survive?**

 **See you all next chapter :)**

 **Have a great day/night,**

 **-LadyHallow**

 **P.S I seriously need a medal now that's the second time I've done two updates in a day :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 12**

 **7** **th** **September 1523**

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich, The Queen's Chambers**_

Hustle and bustle filled the chambers of Queen Anne of England and of Scotland, Lady of Ireland as a babe fought to meet the world. Her labour had been brought on in the early hours of September 6th and it was now well into the evening of September 7th, the labour being a hard and taxing one yet both mother and babe remained strong.

The Queen's sister held tightly onto her younger sister's hand who returned it with an iron grip; Nan Shelton wiping a cold flannel across the crying woman's face.

"It's head is crowning! Push, Your Majesty!" The midwife encouraged, giving the Queen a prompting look to which the Queen answered with a mighty glower, wanting to tell her to try pushing a watermelon out of a hole the size of a small drill for nineteen hours and to see how much she desired to push.

It seemed however, that the midwife was correct in saying that a head had been crowning for upon the second push and a excruciating scream on behalf of the Queen the wails of a babe were to be heard by all.

"What is it? What is it?" Anne half-questioned, half-begged as the midwife turned to her with a neutral face that gave away no emotions as all of her Ladies currently attending her looked up, interested, eager to hear of the birth of England's Prince.

"Your Majesty has delivered an-,"

 **7** **th** **September 1523**

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich, the Chambers of the Duke and Duchess of Somerset, Earl and Countess of Hereford**_

"-healthy baby girl," the messenger announced to where Henry and Catherine were awaiting news of the outcome of the birth of their niece or nephew.

At the news of a niece born to Edmund and Anne Henry's face lit up into one of his grins of ambition and power whereas Catherine had felt disappointed for but a moment in their failure but then only concern for the woman whom, within these past few years, had become her closest friend.

Letting no emotion slip out of her expression or into her tone the Spanish Infanta enquired, "what have they decided to name the child?"

"The Princess Elizabeth Tudor of England and of Scotland, Your Grace, for the Queen Consorts Elizabeth of York and Elizabeth Woodville as well as Lady Elizabeth Boleyn nee Howard, Countess of Wiltshire," the man answered evenly, not caring for the Duke and Earl's scowl at the mention of the chosen name nor the soft smile given buy the Duchess and Coutness.

Catherine nodded to the man, "thank you for your time."

Nodding, the messenger left.

After a moment of silence Henry let out a joyous laugh and Catherine turned to him incredulously, she knew of what had made him joyful but chose to enquire of it anyway, if he was up to something then she may be able to anger it out of him, "what on earth are you laughing about, Henry?"

"Why, the birth of my little _niece_ of course, born to my traitorous, heirless brother and the woman who _I_ should have married," Catherine could not hide her flinch at his words, she loved him so dearly, he was supposed to be her Sir Loyal Heart but it seemed that such a heart was no longer held in her keeping; no matter how torturous it was to admit such a thing, "and now, it gives me the time to produce my own heir, marry and be seen as worthier than him. I want that divorce Catherine, and I want it now."

"And I shall not give it to you," Catherine informed him, her Spanish slipping through to make her words accented as her anger, betrayal and hurt all built up within her.

Henry's eyes seemed to flame up in anger as he slammed a document – their annulment she presumed – upon the table, "you will do as I say, wife!"

"I may be your _wife_ Henry," Catherine stated in a deathly calm manner, her body poised in defence, "but I am also the daughter of the warrior Queen Isabella of Castille who birthed and raised children on a battlefield and the mighty King Ferdinand of Aragon as well as the niece of the Holy Roman Emperor and King of the united Spain. The only people I am required to bow to within this realm is your brother, the _King_ , the Queen and their children. I shall _never_ bow to you."

And with that, her dress billowing after the image that was Catherine of Aragon, the woman with the emotional strength of a hundred men was gone from the room, a dark look upon Henry's face as he watched her leave, his words, before he left himself, being, "I wouldn't be too sure about that, madam."

 **7** **th** **September 1523**

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich, the Seymour Apartments**_

For the birth of the 'Prince' the King had invited nobles and knights alike to the palace that was Greenwich Palace to witness his victory, a victory that was now that of a Princess by the name of Elizabeth Tudor.

One of these families invited to such an event were the Seymours, an old English family of Knights consisting of Sir John Seymour, Dame Margery Seymour and their nine children: Edward, two and twenty; Henry, nine and ten; Margery, six and ten; Thomas, five and ten; Jane, four and ten; John, nine; Elizabeth, five; Dorothy, four __and Anthony, two.

Their third eldest son, Thomas came running in the door with a bang, making Elizabeth, Dorothy and Anthony squeal in fright and causing Henry to jump out of his sitting position, ending up clutching his heart after the loud wakeup call that was delivered at eleven at night to the inhabitants of the chamber.

Edward, however, glowered at the sight of his breathless younger brother, "what is wrong with you, Thomas?" As Margery, John, Jane, Margery (the daughter) and John (the son) all headed into the area to see what the commotion was about.

"The D-Duke of S-Som-Somerset, Earl o-of He-re-f-ford wants t-to re-remarry and over-overthrow th-the Kin-ng," Thomas' words were blurred and marred in his breathlessness but all caught it, there were many gasps of shock and confused gazes. To plot the King's demise would be treason and if the Duke-Earl would be to try to divorce or annul his marriage to Catherine then it would impact the relationship of England and Spain; though, if an opening was to be given…

"Yes, many are aware of His Grace's displeasure of his marriage and jealousy of His Majesty but I do not see what benefits that is to reap for us, Thomas," Sir John commented tiredly as he turned – Magarey, his wife – following him before Edward, looking lost within his thoughts before, until a look of greed entered his face.

"Nay, father, it is a perfect opportunity for if we were able to get one of our sisters to be the Duke-Earl's next bride then whatever plan he is cooking up could end with a sister of ours upon the throne of England, and if not, still a Duchess-Countess," Edward stated, a smirk growing with every word he spoke.

"And if we are to fail in that, Edward, if the King is to find out and know that we were a part of such a plan?" Henry queried, sighing at the lit up eyes of his father John and brothers Edward and Thomas of whom he thought far too ambitious than was healthy and keep one out of the tower.

"Simple," Edward told him, not even missing a beat, "we play both sides, I do believe that the Queen's own brother: George Boleyn is unwed and our Margery has surpassed marriageable age," the mentioned girl of six and ten's eyes widened considerably, "and if we are to offer Thomas Boleyn all of the dowries we have for out sisters for Magarey then the greedy man will jump for it like a dog upon a bone, and our sister will be sister-in-law to the Queen of England and of Scotland, Lady of Ireland as well as being Viscountess Rochford and the future Countess of Wiltshire, the money will make Boleyn overlook our lack of nobility."

"Is Margery is to be married off," John, the younger, began to enquire, "then who will ensnare the Duke-Earl?"

"Why, Jane of course."

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **8** **th** **September 1523**

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich, the Queen's Chambers**_

It was not until the following day that Catherine had been permitted entry to Anne's chambers, only, upon entry she saw the woman that was normally a vision of exotic beauty reduced to tears and sobs as she was curled up on her side.

To whoever had made her friend such a way Catherine felt rage towards and truly hoped it wasn't Edmund, she had thought him better than this and that he would not take it too hardly the fact that he was now the father to a third daughter.

Not speaking any words Catherine got into the large bed with Anne and pulled the woman up so that she was crying into her chest, the Duchess-Countess' hands softly brushing the hair out of the Queen's face as she had so often done with Mary, "what happened, Anne?"

The woman sniffled slightly, turning to quell her tears within the presence of Catherine even though the older woman minded not, looking at her friend with the tenderness that she missed of her own mother of whom rarely visited her now, "m-my father came to see me this morning, and his words were not King. H-he told me that Ed… That Edmund would be rid of me should I not have a boy soon."

Catherine found herself affronted that the man had said such a thing to his daughter and reduced her to this blubbering mess, any noble could see the love these two held for one another rivalled that of the great love between King Edward IV and Queen Consort Elizabeth Woodville, whom had had three daughters before sons themselves, or even the eventual love of King Henry VII and Queen Consort Elizabeth of York.

"He will not, he looks at you as if you are not just the Queen of his realm but the Queen of his heart, Anne," Catherine sighed out, wishing that Henry still looked at her in such a way, the way that he was used to, and felt overly gratified as she felt the woman laugh slightly at her words, clearly having her mood lifted somewhat, "now, have you been to see your daughter yet today Anne?"

"No," Anne stated, her voice clearly showing hesitance that Catherine was sure would be gone from her the minute she looked into the child's eyes – similar to that of the events upon the birth of her darling pearl, Mary, whom was now just five months from her eighth birthday.

"Then let me bring her to you," Catherine said, lifting herself off of the bed whilst clutching onto her many skirts, "you will love her on sight."

Anne nodded to Catherine's words, though hesitance leaked through, yet before Catherine had fully exited the room Anne called to her, "thank you, Catherine, truly. You are my dearest friend."

As she opened the door Catherine looked over her shoulder to give Anne a large, genuine smile that was rarely offered to any bit her daughter, "as you are mine."

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

And Catherine's words rang more than just a slither of truth, for Anne was completely besotted with her baby daughter the minute eyes of electric blue had opened to meet her midnight ones.

The child's eyes locked hers in place with ease and Anne found herself staring in awe at this child that she and the man she loved had created, the emotions and feelings of love and devotion flowing through her as she gazed at her little daughter, tears freely falling from the enchanting woman's eyes as she whispered the words to her daughter that would one day be echoed by another great Queen, "a Prince would have belonged to my countries, but you shall belong to me. I love you, my sweet Elizabeth."

 **What do you think? Are you happy to see Elizabeth or did you want a different outcome (I wanted Elizabeth to still be their eldest child so…)? What are the Seymours up to? Will they succeed? What is Henry up to? Is Catherine truly safe?**

 **Tell me what you think and find out in chapters to come!**

 **Please review if you're enjoying my book!**

 **Have a great day/night,**

 **-LadyHallows**


	13. Chapter 13

**Review Replies (been as I forgot to do them last chapter I will do the review replies for chapters 11 and 12):**

 **Chapter 11 Review Replies:**

 **PatrickMan231:** _I'm glad Anne won the war too and am glad to know that the chapter exceeded your expectations, I hope you liked Chapter 12 as much and will like this chapter :)_

 **LadyNyshah:** _Nope, not twins yet I'm afraid but I do hope you liked the appearance of little Elizabeth, she is such a fantastic woman and role model in history that I wanted to make sure that she would not be overshadowed and could still be first born. I'm thinking of making her Princess Royal even though the title hadn't officially been made up until a couple of centuries after, but then again, Scotland and England hadn't reunited until James I and VI either._

 **Chapter 12 Review Replies:**

 **Imperial Dragon:** _I'm glad you're happy to see Elizabeth, even if it is ten years early, I just couldn't imagine her not being the first Princess :)_

 **Big Allen:** _I did say that Edmund had spent quite a lot of time in Edinburgh during my time skip trying to settle any unrest, but yes, when the time is right I will have them journey to Scotland, just not right now._

 **PatrickMan231:** _I have to say that Anne is my favourite Tudor Queen but I liked Elizabeth loads too! And Katherine Howard. Those are some interesting ideas but I'm afraid you're going to have to wait and see to how it plays out ;)_

 **xLittlexBirdx:** _thank you so much :), I agree that Anne deserved more and am really glad that you're enjoying my story, I definitely agree that they will have time to have more children and while Edmund does want a son – like every man in that time – he doesn't believe that pressuring someone will help, it just causes stress, and will be very different to Henry in such a regard, he also has faith in Anne. I had actually never planned Anne and Catherine's friendship but when I had begun writing that chapter and got the idea I just couldn't resist! I think that – if not for their circumstances – then such powerful, independent women would have become very close friends, making their way in the world of men. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!_

 **Guest (I hope the English people, ect):** _with the reformation and everything they would not love her immediately, though it will be easier than in history as Margaret was not beloved as Catherine was for her cold, aloof and no signs of such obvious devotion to her husband and daughters; but I hope they will be soon to accept her too!_

 **Guest (may I ask why, ect):** _my book is ten years ahead of history because Margaret's actions enabled a divorce to take place many years earlier and Anne and Edmund fell in love quicker as well as the break from Rome being made earlier therefore the timeline is much earlier. For this book I have gone with Anne's younger age actually, 16, as I believe that there is much more evidence that points to such an age (I believe the link to the website I learnt that from is on the Anne Boleyn Files) but that was two years above the normal marriageable age and as were age gaps. But if you prefer to pretend that she is 22 then go ahead :). I am aware that Elizabeth was born in 1533 but, if we're going to be completely correct, then as she is a daughter of Anne and Edmund and not Anne and Henry she should not have been born the same at all. I am glad that you like her relationship with Catherine and am happy you brought up these questions as I know it is stuff that many people are a little confused about and yes, I love Anne's relationship with Isabel and Cecily too._

 _I believe you will like the end portrayal of the Boleyn Family as while you will hear more Thomas Boleyn bashing in this chapter I am already to determined to redeem him for, as you have pointed out, he was not so bad in history and I believe him temporarily blinded by his ambition._

 _ **This chapter is dedicated to Big Allen, PatrickMan231 and Imperial Dragon for their reviews across several chapters that never fail to make me smile.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 13**

 **16** **th** **December 1523**

 _ **Hampton Court Palace**_

Much had changed since the birth of the little Princess Elizabeth Tudor, whom greatly – much to Edmund's own joyfulness – already reminded him greatly of his wonderful, beautiful mother of whom had been taken far too soon, and the court was much chowing for it.

Mary, Edmund's sister, and Charles Brandon (Duke and Duchess of Suffolk) had their second son after the death of little Henry Brandon, deciding to names their new son Edmund in his honour, not wanting to go through the pain of naming their child Henry again.

Henry Tudor, Edmund's younger brother, seemed more than besotted with the girl known as Lady Jane Seymour. Instead of the affection having past within the past month – as it usually did – it seemed to have already lasted over three months, and it seemed that nothing Edmund could say or do would dissuade him. In fact, it seemed to only encourage him further.

Today was to be a most special day for it was the third birthday of the Princess Cecily and many, many nobles and courtiers lined up to see the young Princess of whom would one day be the Queen of France if the betrothal was to go through as planned.

Within Anne's arms lay the Princess Elizabeth, softly sleeping with dark eyes of her mother's closed and the red-gold hair similar to that of her half-sister, Cecily, Elizabeth of York and Elizabeth Woodville of a slight puff upon her head. England's King couldn't help but smile at the utter look of devotion Anne showered upon her daughter and clasped her hand, bringing it to his lips before both turned to face forwards.

Upon the dance floor little Cecily was merrily dancing with George Boleyn of whom Edmund thought was a pleasant, funny man who seemed to be more than happy to entertain Mary, Frances, Isabel, Eleanor and Cecily; Frances and Eleanor being his sister's, Mary Brandon, daughters.

Mary was dancing with Catherine, the sight of the mother and daughter giggling and smiling merrily as they twirled one another around was a sight to soften any heart; but not Henry's, it seemed, who had spent the last four dances in the arms of the young Lady Jane Seymour.

Finally the song came to an end and all around the court clapped as the Princess Elizabeth was handed to Lady Byran and the royal couple took to their dance.

With Margaret in an Abbey and Henry far too infatuated with this Seymour girl they felt as if they were safe, swift approaching their golden world, but it seemed there were more enemies than first thought.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **23** **rd** **December 1523**

 _ **Hampton Court Palace, the Seymour Apartments**_

With Henry in the gardens with his daughter of seven summers, Mary, the Seymour family found themselves an opportunity to continue their plotting of how to make Jane the Duchess of Somerset, Countess of Hereford and to make Margery the future Countess of Wiltshire and sister-in-law to the Queen.

"Are you holding him off, Janey?" Thomas enquired, ambition sparkling within his eyes as he looked at one of his younger sisters, the second eldest.

Head down Jane Seymour nodded in confirmation leaving the grin to grow on her third eldest brother's face and for her eldest brother to chip in, "you must continue to leave it that way, we shall take a leaf out of the Boleyn's books and soon you shall be his wife. Has he asked anything of you?"

"He has asked repetitively of my maidenhead but as you said, I have denied it and he, well, he called himself my _servant_ ," Jane stated, the last part in immense disbelief at what she had read upon that letter not too long ago, ignoring her ambitious male relatives of whom seemed positively gleeful at the aspect of Henry Tudor, Duke of Somerset, Earl of Hereford and a son of a King asking such a thing of her; something that, in fact, rather nerved her. For while she was a pretty, traditional English rose she knew not how to read or write or speak many languages, she could not give him a strong alliance; nay, all he wanted from her was a son. And if she were not to deliver…

"And you, Margery?" Edward queried as he turned to his eldest sister, "what of George Boleyn?" 

"I do not believe him taken with me, brother, for he spends more time with his niece and nieces-in-law," answered Margery with a sigh, more than uncomfortable under the scrutinising gazes of her father and brothers.

"Well he _has_ to be, Margery," Sir John Seymour implored to his daughter, eyes boring into her own in an attempt to get the message across, "for if we are to come unscathed from this war of thrones then we will have to be upon both sides." 

Henry Seymour, Sir John Seymour and Dame Margery Seymour's second son, spoke up, "you know that Catherine will not step aside from her position, especially as she loves Henry, and we cannot force it upon her with the might of Spain and the Holy Roman Emperor to back her. She is a daughter of Isabella I of Castille, after all."

Truth rang through Henry Seymour's words but many chose to ignore such truths, even if said truths would shortly come into play.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **24** **th** **December 1523**

 _ **Hampton Court Palace Gardens**_

Queen Consort Anne Tudor nee Boleyn of England, of France and of Scotland, Lady of Ireland and Lady Catherine Tudor nee Trastámara, Duchess of Somerset and Countess of Hereford strolled side by side within the white gardens of Hampton Court Palace; a thick blanket of snow covering the normally luscious green grass.

In front of them ran the Princess Isabel, Mary and Frances of whom were all participating in a game of tag, Mary and Frances' dark hair and Isabel's mane of dark red flowing out of their hoods as they did so, Eleanor and the Princess Cecily were making snow angels not far behind them.

Normally the Duchess of Suffolk, Lady Mary Brandon, would have joined them upon their stroll, slowly but surely befriending Anne in the way she had Catherine, Anne suppsed she was lucky that former Queen Margaret, now the _Lady Margaret, dearest friend of England_ in order to not earn them as much malice from the Moscan Royal family, as it made it much easier to become favoured amongst those who, had they of liked the once Queen, most likely would have chosen her predecessor. The fact she was friends with England's beloved Infanta of Spain did much help her cause. But the Duchess of Suffolk had claimed illness, though both Anne and Catherine knew the true reason behind it was Charles Brandon's affairs to which broke the youngest surviving daughter of King Henry VII's heart over and over again.

She could only imagine the pain that both Mary and Catherine had had to endure, to be in love with a man who strays so far from the marriage bed yet still holds one's heart so tightly within their grasp, she could not imagine the pain of what it would feel like if Edmund ever did, she hoped, wished, prayed that he never would.

The only problem that faced Anne, Mary and Catherine's friendship was religion. Both Mary and Catherine were devout Catholics whilst Anne Protestant, the reformation of the church impressing neither, in fact it had angered them, but instead of falling out they simply decided to not bring it up and the worship their religion in the 'comfort' of their own homes.

"How are you, Catherine?" Enquired Queen Anne of her closest friend, feeling guilty at the look of pain that shone in the woman's face to her question.

"Not well," she stated with a sigh, looking to Anne in sadness, "he _flaunts_ her, a girl of not five and ten, and further pressures me into an annulment. He would make my precious Mary a bastard for what end? So he can marry some woman who, like you, would not sleep with him! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up you."

Despite the wince that Anne could barely contain at the mention of the fact that she had once caused Catherine such pain, that she had been the one to take his attentions from wife and child who longed for his love above anything else, she reassured Catherine that it was okay.

Catherine tried to refrain from dwelling upon how things once were, of the love that had once filled Henry's being at the mere sight of her, now nothing but malice and dislike, and changed the subject, "how is the Princess Elizabeth?"

At her query a large grin adorned the Queen of England, of France and of Scotland, Lady of Ireland's face, indescribable amounts of love and devotion written across her face.

"She is well, Edmund says she will grow up to look just like his mother – Elizabeth of York – but she has the Boleyn-Howard eyes, my mother's eyes," Anne had not seen much of her mother as of late, the woman refused to come to court and put up with Thomas Boleyn's endless affairs, driving her to depression from the man she loved so dearly shunning her and using her as a brood mare.

Every ounce of Anne's memories of her loving, caring, devoted mother would stay with her for many years to come; the beautiful Howard girl who had given up everything for the Knight she loved.

At those thoughts she couldn't help but laugh, Elizabeth of York had fallen in love with her enemy, Elizabeth Woodville had fallen in love with a man forbidden, unattainable to her – or so it had seemed when the widowed, commoner Lancastrian supporter fell for the younger, womanizing King - and her mother, Elizabeth Howard, had loved a man far below her station, a relationship her father had forbid.

Yes, she didn't doubt that they would have some trouble when it came to love for her young Princess.

"I worry sometimes though," Anne continued, "that we will not have a boy that I had promised him, that he would set me aside and lose love in me."

Now it was Catherine's turn to laugh, "London would melt into the Thames before he stopped loving you. And you are young, Anne, you will have more; if you wish for a boy you shall have one."

Neither mentioned the fact that Catherine had once been young too, and had lost child after child, remembering each and every name as she cried in mourning each night for them.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **25** **th** **December 1523**

 _ **Hampton Court Palace, Room #234**_

William Brereton paced the isolated room as others celebrated Christmastide bellow. He did not join in the festives, nor did he relish in the joy of Yule, instead he waited impatiently with a scowl upon his young face; awaiting the appearance of another.

Suddenly the room door opened causing Brereton to jump out of his wits, whirling around to become face to face with the man he had been waiting for, "Ambassador Chapuys, I was not sure you would come considering the whore's friendship with your master's aunt."

"All the more reason to come, I must protect her and the Lady Mary from the witch's spells and bring England back to the true religion," Eustace Chapuys informed the groom, taking a seat in one of the chairs of the sparsely decorated room, "tell me, Brereton, what is your idea to deal with this… complication."

"A person who's heart does not beat would no longer be a complication, Ambassador Chapuys," the King's groom stated with a gleam of madness within his eyes, "and the Pope is said to have informed others that should we assassinate the woman they call _Queen_ we shall be abolished of all sins, it is God's will."

"Tell me, how do you plan to get God's will done?"

"Well, firstly we must strike before the harlot has a son, the bastard girl will not be a problem, and how we do it will be…"

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **25** **th** **December 1523**

 _ **Hampton Court Palace**_

Unknowing of the plans currently being concocted upstairs Anne glared at the form that was Lady Margery Seymour.

Anne was no fool and had seen the young girl's attempts – not doubt upon the orders of her family – to woo her brother and had chosen to ignore it, but now, they had their daughter trying to woo her husband.

Jealousy coursed through her veins as she saw the eyes that Lady Margery was sending in the direction of her husband, an unnecessarily low and straight backed bow well placed in front of Edmund.

Despite reassurances that he loved her and was not to take a mistress (though she knew any man would look at a woman, especially as Lady Margery was rather pretty) she saw his eyes upon her and swiftly took to her feet.

Sir Thomas Wyatt had recently introduced her to a most marvellous musician by the name of Mark Smeaton of whom had a gift unlike any other and she was most eager to have him play one of her favourite dancing songs.

"Let us dance, my love," she whispered within the ear of the King as he turned to her with a smirk, taking her hand as the two took to the stage, courtiers and nobles spreading far out of the way to let them into the centre.

"Mark," she called to her favoured musician, "play a Volta."

The type of dance was most intimate and seductive and she felt her husband's eyes upon her every move, and her's upon his, their bodies in such a close proximity that they could not get any closer with the fabric that stood within their way.

As the song came to an end Edmund's arms held her into him, both panting heavily as eyes darkened with lust bored into one another, looks of desperate need and hunger as they stared at one another.

"I think," he whispered within her war, teeth biting her earlobe gently, "that we should go somewhere private."

That night they were more animal than human, desperate and driven with their want and need for one another, filled with lust and loved with every thrust and kiss.

Needless to say, they didn't make it to the bed.

 **Well… Anne and Edmund are off XD**

 **What do you think will happen with William Brereton and Eustace Chapuys? Will they try to kill her? Will Catherine stop them? Could our favourite royal couple have any more Princes and Princesses in the near future?**

 **Find out next chapter and tell me what** _ **you**_ **think will happen!**

 **Have a great day/night,**

 **-LadyHallows**


	14. Chapter 14

**The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 14**

 **23** **rd** **February 1524**

 _ **Whitehall Palace, the Duke and Duchess of Somerset, Earl and Countess of Hereford's Apartments**_

It was two days after the mass celebration that had been held for Queen Anne's birthday, the court had been alive with joyfulness and splendour for the remarkable woman's birthday yet Catherine was more than relieved to finally have been able to retire to her chambers with her young daughter of now eight years, laughing as Mary practised her Spanish, Catherine occasionally chipping in hints or joking in her native language.

Another thing that the Queen's birthday had been used for was the announcement of another royal pregnancy, upon that news Catherine had laughed and told her friend that her and Edmund should dance more often; as that was the night that Anne believed the pregnancy had happened and was also under similar circumstances when the Princes Elizabeth, a healthy, happy baby of five months, had been conceived.

And had also only caused Henry more anger, no doubting imaging the what ifs, if he could have got his divorce, if his brother hadn't of fallen in love with the woman he had been infatuated with, if Elizabeth and this unborn child had been his.

With brought her to this very moment, when Henry, stumbling and clearly intoxicated, moved to Catherine with a pointed hand raised.

"You," he hissed out, inching closer in such a way that Mary gave out a cry of fear causing Catherine to shield the little girl behind her in fear of what her drunk husband may do, "you will give me my annulment! NOW!"

Catherine held her head up, as tall and as proud as she was when she was in Spain as it's youngest, beloved Infanta and when she was once destined to be the Queen of England, "I will do no such thing. Our marriage was made in good faith, Henry, and what of Mary?"

"She is a bastard," Henry declared angrily as he closed in the space between him and Catherine, ignoring the cries of little Mary for what her darling papa had called her.

Catherine had a sharp intake of breath as she began, "how dare yo-,"

Only the words never made their way out of her mouth when she was struck to the floor with a resounding smack, Mary's cry of distress ringing in her ears. She could barely believe it when her young daughter stepped in front of her body, eyes shining with tears, tear tracks going down her cheeks but glaring at Henry, "get out, you hurt my mama. Go!"

Henry took one step closer to the young girl, whose fear and boldness all but deserted her as he approached, but instead turned on his heel and left the room with a slam of the door, leaving Mary and Catherine to cry together, Catherine unable to contain the yearning for the man she once knew from what he had become; the man of whom one of her spies had confirmed would probably be heading to the chambers of the Lady Jane Seymour within these moments, the woman of whom had given herself to her husband two months previously. And if a babe was to come from that union, nobody would be able to save her from what Henry would plan.

Of that she was most certain.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **4** **th** **March 1524**

 _ **Whitehall Palace Gardens**_

Together, Anne and Edmund wondered through the wonders that they called _Whitehall Palace Gardens_ , Edmund grinning as he saw Anne admire a stunning red rose and vowed that he would pick a bunch from his own hand and put them upon her bed side table for when she woke up that morning.

It was Anne who finally broke the silence with a frown and a sigh as she stated, "I don't want to get fat."

Edmund laughed to her words earning himself her glare as he silenced any further protest with a chaste kiss to the lips that rivalled the scarlettness of the rose that she had been admiring, "I think you're beautiful no matter what."

"I'm already showing though, why couldn't this pregnancy be like Elizabeth's and have me not show until four months along?"

His laughter filled the air once more, Anne smiling at the mere sound of it, "perhaps it is a sign of a boy, my love, already wanting to show himself off to the world."

Anne could not help but snort, "any child of yours will want to show themselves to the world, Edmund, I have never seen such a child that is such a good poser and attention lover as our Elizabeth."

"I do believe she gets that from you, my love, not I," at her stare of disbelief the two cracked up once more, grins upon their faces as they looked to one another.

Edmund closed the distance between them so that his chin lay upon her head before he placed a kiss upon her forehead and told her, "you could have a thousand wrinkles and be the size of Whitehall Palace, my love, and you would still be the most beautiful woman in my eyes. You are intelligent, you are stubborn, you are loyal, you are determined, you are strong minded, you are wilful, you are unpredictable, you are loving, you are devoted, you make me smile upon my worst days, you are my light upon the darkest days. I love you for you Anne, even if your beauty is beyond compare."

She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in the musky scent of leather that he had upon his white top for such a casual stroll within the gardens and felt herself fall in love all over again.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **8** **th** **March 1524**

 _ **Whitehall Palace, Unknown Room**_

"What has the Emperor said, Ambassador Chapuys?" William Brereton queried as he and the Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys, met in yet another deserted room within the moved court, now at Whitehall.

"He has said," Eustace Chapuys began with a heaving sigh, "that his Aunt, Catherine, has written to him and told him of what a valuable ally she will be to Spain and of their close friendship therefore the Emperor has agreed to take no movement. He will most definitely not be acknowledging the presence of Anglicanism in England and he will not actively recognise this new Queen until he has to but nor will he go against her, not when his Aunt has her as a valuable ally in her and Mary's welfare."

Brereton, though more than a little miffed by the Emperor's clear avoidance of truly accepting that it was God's will to have the harlot dead, he nodded his head and stated to Eustace, "so we are by ourselves within this deed."

The Spanish Ambassador nodded in agreement and waited, thinking a moment, before a gleeful smile took over his face, "on the 10th of this month, in two days' time, the Queen, King, Henry, Catherine and all of the Queen's immediate family currently at court will be going to the towns of London to try to win more favour for the Queen after the outbreaks in protest with the new religion. It will be a perfect time to strike. Tell me, Brereton, do you have a gun?"

"No," Brereton stated with a shake of his head, yet a sinister smile took hold of his face, "but I know where I can get one."

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **10** **th** **March 1524**

 _ **London**_

One day off ten weeks pregnant and already beginning to slightly show Anne was most definitely uncomfortable within the carriage that was to take her to the centre of London, finding the air most stuffy and the heat making her increasingly have the urge to puke.

When she did so, upon her father's, Thomas Boleyn's, brand new shoes she was most glad of her aim; refraining herself barely from chuckling at the slight glare upon her father's face (who had recently taken to ranting to her about her need for a son and how he needed a grandson that would rule so he would become a Duke, and perhaps, at the King's early demise, a Lord Protector, Anne had been most outraged by his latter conclusion and was swift to send him on his way, away from her chambers).

When the carriage finally stopped and she was helped out she was greeted by some confused, few slightly joyous and many rather hostile faces of the people currently in the area. She was not surprised for it was a Sunday and they had rather carelessly stopped outside a large, Catholic church.

Sighing she, with Edmund appearing by her side and a large bag within her hand, she tried to walk as confidently as she could to a central place of where she was to deliver a speech to those who seemed only inclined to bow to Edmund, their King, and not to her.

But she was stopped by a pulling upon her robes, to see a small girl of not five with curling blonde hair looking innocently up at her, bright green eyes shining upon her dirt covered face. Many held their breath when they saw the girl's mud coated hand stain the Queen's obviously expensive silver dress and the girl's mother went to surge forwards and apologise only to be too taken aback to do anything with what happened next.

Moving carefully to a crouching position in front of the little girl Anne asked with a smile, "yes?"

The little girl did not speak a word but rather moved her hand to touch the diamond broach that the Queen wore – further worrying the people as to what the Queen's reaction would be – before withdrawing her hand gigglingly stating, "it sparkles!"

Anne grinned at the little girl and carefully moved her hands to undo the diamond broach from where it was pinned, the carefully pinning it to the girl's dirty, grey dress, moving her head back slightly as if the survey her Anne stated, "it looks far better on you anyway."

Much to Anne's shock, when she got up there was at least two thirds of the surrounding people bowing shallowly to her, the little girl herself doing a wobbly curtsey with others soon joining in as they saw the others.

Edmund had a proud smile upon his lips, for even if it had not been his generous wife's intention for that action to gain London's love it did, and such news would have the majority of England knowing within a matter of two days. It would not make her immediately beloved, not with religious changes in the way, but it would certainly diminish such stubborn dislike.

That was until yells were being heard from the crowds as the sounding of a gun fire went off, heading straight for Anne and, before anyone could react, barely missing and hitting the chest of a woman whom had stood not far from Anne's left.

Screams were heard as Edmund ran over in an attempt to protect Anne, only he did not know of which direction the gun man was aiming in with people at every side in a circle around Anne, of whom her brother rushed to protect another side that the murderer could try to shoot at.

Thomas Boleyn, however, seemed to have caught on to who it was and, before William Brereton could take aim once more, tackled the man and a struggle broke out. Edmund, checking George was still protecting Anne, rushed over to help his father-in-law in taking down the man.

"Never, ever, try to hurt my daughter or grandchild again," Edmund could hear Thomas Boleyn's protective yell as he placed hit against hit upon the man.

Only then yet another gun shot went off, and Edmund was only swift enough to catch the hooded, bruised and beaten man from trying to escape; not quick enough to stop the bullet from penetrating Thomas Boleyn's rib cage.

He watched in horror, as his father-in-law swayed before hitting the ground, barely hearing Anne's scream as she ran to his side with George, tears already working their way down each of their faces.

"Papa? Papa?" Anne cried out as her and George dropped to his side, "don't leave us."

Edmund ordered the sparse amount of guards that they had brought with them to take William Brereton – revealed much to his horror when he tore his hood from his head – to the Tower of London and to have Cromwell, a man of whom Edmund had met through other Protestants to help lead the reformation, for _questioning_ as he stood a small distance from Anne and George, letting them be as alone as they could be to be with their father for the last time.

Thomas Boleyn's blue eyes looked from George to Anne as a lone tear escaped his eyes as he thought of how he had failed them. Neglecting George, telling Mary to give herself to Kings for his own advancement, educating Anne to manipulate and pushing her into the views of the Duke-Earl and King to advance himself even further. He had failed them all, "I-I am so, so sorry," he stated, his face already going pale from the blood loss and eyes turning to pity at the looks of denial upon his children's faces, "I have failed you both."

"You haven't, father," George denied as Anne stated, most tearfully,

"You cannot go, Elizabeth needs you, my unborn child needs you, mother needs you, Mary needs you, George needs you, _I_ need you."

He reached a hand out to his youngest daughter's cheek and gave her his best, small smile as he thought of how he had even failed the child that he had often proclaimed to be his favourite, "I love you all."

And with that drew the last breath of Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire, mother to Anne Boleyn, Mary Boleyn and George Boleyn, husband to Elizabeth Howard and grandfather to Catherine Carey, Henry Carey and Elizabeth Tudor.

A man with a cold heart, one that nobody knew that his children had thawed a long time ago.

 **Does Catherine have much to worry about? Will Jane become with child? Did you like Thomas Boleyn turning good in the end? What will Anne's child be? What will names be? What will Chapuys do next? What will the Seymours plot?**

 **Find out in future chapters and review what** _ **you**_ **think :)**

 **Have a great day/night,**

 **-LadyHallows**

 **P.S no review replies in this chapter as I did it straight after chapter 13 but if there are any then I'll reply to them in chapter 15 :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Review Replies:**

 **The Wandmaker:** _Thank you :), I know, Catherine deserved so much more but I think with a husband like Henry she will never get it. She has been a most active player on Anne's side and will be until her final moments, as Anne will be for her. Yes, I think Henry is going to be fated for a most… dissatisfying, in his opinion, future._

 **PatrickMan231:** _I know, they never give up in any universe do they? It wasn't Catherine who stopped them but they were stopped ;) and you are right, they definitely won't escape Edmund's wrath and we will find out more about that next chapter! Thank you, I hope you enjoy this one, even if it does have a rather sad ending, as next chapter will be :(._

 **Imperial Dragon:** _good ideas but I'm afraid Henry won't be going anywhere for a while, even if we would like him to. Yes, the Seymours are plotting something most cruel and I think Thomas Boleyn finally had the ending he deserved. You'll have to wait and see until next chapter for the gender ;)_

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 15**

 **21** **st** **July 1524**

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich, the Apartments of the Duke and Duchess of Somerset, Earl and Countess of Hereford**_

Catherine was out on one of her daily strolls with the Queen and the Duchess of Suffolk whilst Henry sat upon the rich red chair within his chambers, surrounded by Sir John Seymour, Edward Seymour and Thomas Seymour, whom seemed most eager to deliver the new that they had brought themselves here for.

"Well?" Henry queried of the family of the love of his life, his mistress, "what is it?"

Both Sir John and Edward seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if deciding as to what they would say but Thomas was swift to tell him with a grin, "Jane is pregnant, two months gone, they say," whilst Henry slumped into his chair, trying to process such news, Thomas Seymour carried on, "she is carrying _your_ heir, Your Grace, if you leave Catherine now then you could have a legitimate _son_."

Henry would not lie, he had been longing for such news, it had most disheartened him on the factor that they had been together for seven months and there had been no new of pregnancy – he had _almost_ given up hope – but now here it was. His son. He must act now.

"You are right, Thomas," Henry stated much to the younger man's thrill who stood up like a proud peacock, earning a roll of the eyes from his older brother, Edmund, "but she will not give me my annulment, not now, not ever and with Spain and the Holy Roman Empire upon her side there is no way I can force her hand."

Sir John looked most put back by the setback whilst Edward's keen mind begun to think of ways out of this, but it was Thomas' malicious conclusion that brought all their attentions to him, "then kill her."

There was silence for a moment when all men seemed to openly stare at him incredulously, Thomas, ever unaware it seemed, once again continued on, "mother has an array of herbs and concoctions at home, I see no reason as to why we cannot make a poison from it. And then, you will have your heir."

Henry seemed too shocked to speak, yes he wanted Catherine gone but could he really authorise or cause the death of the woman he had once loved so completely that he would dare the wrath of a King just to be with? The mother of the little eight year old girl he had once called the 'pearl of his world'?

Thomas Seymour chose a most accurate moment to echo his early words, breaking through the conscience that so rarely plagued Henry, "you could have an heir, a living, healthy son."

And with those words Henry knew what he would do.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **21** **st** **July 1524**

 _ **Greenwich Palace Gardens, Greenwich**_

The Queen, the Duchess-Countess and the Duchess all laughed most joyfully at the sight of little Edmund Brandon clumsily trying to walk at the age of fourteen months whilst the eight year old Mary ran ahead of the adults with Eleanor, Frances, Princess Isabel and Princess Cecily with grins upon their faces.

Anne was supporting a large, round tummy that seemed almost too big for her seven months, holding her young daughter, the Princess Elizabeth in her hands under a cloth of emerald green lined with furs.

The one year and two months old Edmund Brandon curiously toddled over to where the baby was being held and tried to do a little jump to see the inhabitant, only to fall upon his bottom and let out a mighty wail.

Mary chuckled at her son's attempts and picked up the blonde-haired, grey-eyed boy so he could look curiously inside the bundle.

He smiled a toothy smile at the youngest Princess before his mama put him back down and they carried on their journey around the gardens; neither knowing of the plans afoot for Catherine's demise, nor knowing that Mary would be having her heart broken once again when she would go home to see her husband with yet another mistress.

Therefore in this moment, for the three women who had defied the unspoken laws of this country of bowing down to the power of men, they had their little bit of peace; in this moment, everything could be truly worth it.

For in not a month's time, that peace would surely become chaos.

 **ET-ET-ET-ET**

 **19** **th** **August 1524**

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich**_

Lady Katherine Grey could safely say that she preferred life away from court. Those moments alone where she could bond with her son of two years, a son she shared with the King of England of whom todays was to be made Duke of Richmond and of Lennox.

Holding onto her young sons hand she gently squeezed it when she felt the young boy's fear. He was a darling boy with Edmund's hair and her green eyes as well as his father's pale skin tone and she was very much devoted to her child.

"The Lady Katherine Grey and the Lord Charles FitzRoy," the herald announced as Katherine and her young son walked in to have the entirety of the court observing them.

Charles, much to her relief, seemed outwardly confident even if his too tight hold on Katherine's hand gave away his true fear, and walked to kneel in front of his beaming father.

Katherine must give it to Edmund that he was a most doting father. He had had Richmond Manor commissioned for them to live in as well as a £200 sterling pound annual income that allowed them to live most comfortably as well as often riding out to see his son and offering to find Katherine a suitable husband.

But Katherine found herself denying such an offer, a man who would want more children from her and would place her 'bastard' son aside for their legitimate children is not a man that she wanted; or worse, only wed her to grasp at whatever power he could from raising and being the step-father of the King's only – so far anyway – son.

When Katherine glanced up at Anne, fearful that she would not favour her darling boy because of his gender and place, she was most delighted that while there was longing and slight worry in her eyes upon the Queen's face was a smile for the fearful child, a reassuring one meant to bring him comfort.

Edmund brought out his sword and tapped it on either shoulder, announcing, "I now proclaim you Lord Charles FitzRoy, Duke of Richmond and of Lennox. Rise, my son."

And with that the little boy rose and swiftly shot his father a beaming smile, bowing much to Katherine's pride before yelling out, "papa!" and earning an embrace.

For the rest of the night she saw many dance quite merrily and watched with a fond smile as – when Edmund went off to carefully dance with his soon to be in confinement wife – Edmund sat Charles upon his throne.

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming up behind her and swiftly turned to come face to face with a rather mischievous looking brown haired man of whom seemed rather handsome, bowing low he kissed her hand before enquiring, "would my Lady like to dance?"

She smiled at the man but stated surely, "I must stay with my son and ensure he is alright." 

"He is mist welcome to dance with us, the songs are fairly upbeat at the moment," the handsome stranger stated, offering him a slightly unsure smile she gestured for Charles to come over who did so with a run.

"Would you like to dance with your mother and I, Your Grace?" The man queried with a shallow bow even though it seemed not to be needed for from his clothes he was at least an Earl or Viscount. Nethertheless it brought a smile to both Katherine and Charles' faces as the little boy nodded eagerly and the three set off to merrily dance.

By the end of the night both Katherine, Charles and the stranger were having a most wonderful time. And by the end of the night she knew his name as George Boleyn.

Sir John, Edward and Thomas positively glowered at the sight of the King's former mistress and the Queen's brother dancing and enjoying one another's company for that was meant to be their way onto both sides, and he seemed more taken with Lady Katherine Grey in a single night than their Lady Margery Seymour in five months.

Henry Tudor stood by them, observing the dancing couples as well, glowering at the form of the smiling Anne and Edmund and observing his daughter and wife's interactions.

He wanted this son, he _needed_ his heir and for that they would have to suffer, but in his mind, it was what had to be done.

Grabbing the small vile given to him by Thomas Seymour Henry cautiously poured it into a glass of wine given to him by a servant and called one over.

"Give this to my wife," he said, "it's a wine of her own collection and I brought it with me for her to drink as a sorry for our most recent argument."

The servant had no suspicions at his latter explanation and nodded, taking the wine over to Catherine, only when he arrived he tripped over the foot of the Duchess-Countess and unknowingly tipped some of the wine he was holding into the cup of Queen Anne, who after finishing dancing with her husband had moved to talk to the Duchess of Somerset, Countess of Hereford and Duchess of Suffolk.

Finally readying himself after his trip and telling the Duchess-Countess that it was no problem at all he produced the drink as Queen Anne took a sip of hers, "from His Grace, the Duke of Somerset and Earl of Hereford. He says it is an apology wine, one from your own collection."

Catherine was dumbstruck at his explanation, this – rather pitifully – having been the kindest thing Henry had done for her within the past five years of marriage, and offered him a smile, raising her glass to him, before taking a large gulp of her favourite wine.

At her smile Henry had almost wielded, had even taken a step forward with every intention of whacking the poisoned wine out of his wife of ten and four years hands. But Thomas Seymour put a hand upon his shoulder and instead Henry watched as she drank her death.

Anne Boleyn found herself with a most peculiar sensation of burning down her throat and feeling rather faint, much to the concern of Mary Brandon as the Queen swayed slightly, face going pale.

"Are you alright, Anne?" Mary enquired as Anne stumbled slightly, Anne shook her head slightly and began to take a few steps forward.

"I-I," Anne began, shaking her head in an attempt to shake off the illness to no avail, "I will retire, I think, I find myself not feeling too well."

Mary followed the Queen as she took from the room, neither seeing as Catherine fell into the wall, neither hearing little Mary Tudor's scream of horror as her mother hit the floor.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 **21** **st** **August 1524**

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich, the Queen's Chambers**_

After Anne's illness Mary Brandon had ensured that she was in her bed and trying to rest, but Anne found that she could not.

The burning sensation had took root inside her stomach and she felt a most awful pain that caused her to scream out, sending Mary scurrying over to her in horror as first the sheets became damp, Anne's water having broke over a month early, and then the scarlett colour of blood also hitting the sheets.

"Help! Somebody help!" Mary cried out as she tried to keep Anne awake, her eyes sagging and body slowly going limp. If she were to fall asleep Mary knew that it would likely cause her death.

Suddenly another lady-in-waiting to Anne ran in, Nan Shelton, and almost screamed at the sight of the bleeding, borderline unconscious and crying out in pain of contractions Queen.

"Get Doctor Linacre, now! And a midwife!" Nodding the Lady rushed out of the room to do as she ordered.

Mary looked at Anne's form, crying out in pain of contractions and – unknown to her – pain of the poison that her brother, Henry, had unknowingly also dosed her with, "please Anne, live through this, do not go to sleep. Do it for Elizabeth and your unborn child."

Anne heard her words and had a returned determination to stay awake, to live, to fight and she would not give in until she was dead.


	16. Chapter 16

**Review Replies:**

 **The Wandmaker:** _you'll have to wait and see until next chapter ;)_

 **Sy94:** _you'll soon find out. And trust me, eventually Henry will get what he has coming… And I'll let you in on a little secret, it's Anne who will serve him the fate he deserves._

 **QueenAnneTudor:** _yes, that is what they deserve, I'm afraid you'll have to find out._

 **72-CurlyLocks-72:** _yes, it was a bit of a mean cliff hanger but here the next chapter is! I hope I haven't left it too long ;) and I also hope that you enjoy this chapter, even if it is really rather sad._

 **Child of Dreams:** _yes… XD_

 **Child of Dreams:** _you'll have to find out :)_

 **Guest:** _you'll have to wait and see for the babies as well as the fate of the Seymours and Henry, they have to be caught first ;)_

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 16:**

 **19th August 1524**

 ** _Greenwich Palace, Greenwich_**

Unlike the labour with the thirteen month old Princess Elizabeth this one was coming on much faster and much more painfully; Elizabeth's birth had taken a mass total of thirty-four hours but now, it seemed as if this one was determined to finish within the day to which had already been nearing nightfall.

To Anne, however, it could not come fast enough. Her eyes were heavy and the lids were so tempted to close and to send her off into the relief of sleep, the comfort all too tempting as it roughly grasped at her, trying to pull her into its realms.

For the first two hours she had cried out for her mother, wanting her comforting presence through the unbearable pain that she could not remember being as fierce with Elizabeth. Mary Boleyn, her sister, had promised to go and get their mother but hours later neither woman had been seen since.

Her screams, she found, could not be contained. They were screams of fear for the crimson red that had soaked Mary Brandon's hands after her water had broken; screams for the fire that had worked it's was to her womb and felt as if she were burning inside out; screams for the fear of Catherine, of whom a foolish maid had ran in and told the already distressed Queen that the Duchess of Somerset, Countess of Hereford, could die upon this very night.

"Anne," a soft voice said, it sounded comforting and like a lullaby, and, for a moment, she almost let sleep claim her, "Annie stay awake."

"Mama?" Anne enquired, her voice hoarse from the screams that plagued her throat, she looked around but she could not see anyone.

"I am here, I will _always_ be here," and with that it felt like a warm hand was being placed within hers before she felt nothing but pain.

"Push," Doctor Linacre, of whom had only been in the room as the birth seemed as if it would claim her life, urged, "push." 

She would like to see _him_ push a watermelon out of a hole the size of a pea.

Mary Brandon, of whom had stayed by her side throughout it all, gasped out in joy and stated to Anne, "the head is crowning, hold on Anne."

She could feel the exhaustion creeping up on her, it's comforting hands pulling at her as she determinedly pushed with another screech that only added to the hoarseness of her throat.

"One more,"

And she did so, she used every ounce of strength upon pushing and pushing until she saw the Doctor grab and bring up a baby from beneath her.

Only the babe remained both still and silent, yet to make a sound upon this earth, Anne strained her neck to look at the child in fear and concern.

"Why isn't my baby moving?" She demanded, ignoring the pain in her throat as she raised her voice, "why isn't-,"

Only her sentences were to be cut off by the wail of the babe, much to her utter relief, yet that relief was short felt as yet another pain, a labour pain, filled her body. Letting a cry of pain pass her lips she fell back into the bed as everybody rushed over, the doctor passing her wailing babe, her beautiful babe, to Lady Nan Shelton whilst they all tended to what was going wrong.

 _No,_ she wanted to cry as another pain wracked her body, _look after my child, make sure the fire that I felt didn't hurt them!_

"My God, it's twins!"

Twins. Two.

Anne had barely possessed the strength to birth the one let alone two, and now as contractions passed through her body, as her eyes fell, as she focused her eyes upon the direction of her newborn, she knew that it was highly likely that she would not survive this.

But she was determined that she would do anything within her power to make sure that they would.

Everything within her was dedicated to giving this child life, draining the life out of her.

 ** _ET-ET-ET-ET_**

 **19th August 1524**

 ** _Greenwich Palace, Greenwich_**

Doctor Linacre hesitantly stepped out to where the King and their Majesty's family was awaiting his news.

He was most surprised that Henry Tudor was not with his wife, he had been informed of the once Infanta of a united Spain's condition, but then again he had also heard of the lack of love lost on Henry's part.

The King was pacing, worried and fretting for the woman the entirety of the court knew he loved, a love that was like an undying ember; and he feared for his reaction to the news above any other.

"The Queen, Anne, how is she?" Her brother, George Boleyn, Lord Rochford, queried, "and my nephew or niece?"

Sighing, Doctor Linacre delivered the news, "the Queen has delivered twins. It is nephew **s** , Lord Rochford, it is twin boys." 

There was celebrating and laughing at first but then Edmund turned back to see Doctor Linacre's expression, his face became plagued with fear and worry, "and what of them? What ill news do you bare?"

"The Queen was poisoned, it seemed. That was what induced her too early labour. It is unknown whether or not the Queen and the youngest Prince will survive the night as the poison seemed to have settled within her womb and one point."

Everything went silent, no one seemed to move a single muscle as Edmund's face went from fear to devastation to an expression of rage that would bring upon the might of the Tudor temper.

"A servant, the one who poured Catherine's drink, they tripped over her foot and I saw some go into Anne's cup. I didn't think much of it at the time but," Mary Brandon was cut off by Edmund taking several steps towards her before questioning,

"Would you know of this servant if you saw him again?"

"Well – I think so,"

"Edmund," Henry attempted to reason, "maybe now it not the-,"

"THIS IS THE TIME, HENRY! Somebody poisoned my wife and yours. They will result in the death of Catherine, possibly in the death of Anne and my youngest son. Whoever is responsible will die a death unlike ever seen before."

Edmund did not see the Duke of Somerset, Earl of Hereford's face pale; nor did he see him walk away, determined to find the servant before Edmund could.

 ** _ET-ET-ET-ET_**

 **23rd August 1524**

 ** _Greenwich Palace, Greenwich_**

A heaviness unlike any other fell upon her, willing her to not move her body, to stay stationary. But remembering her children, remembering Elizabeth and her twins of whom she could not leave behind upon this world she willed her eyes open.

But they did not appear to listen to her command so instead she started to wiggle her fingers and then her toes, regaining the ability to move within her limbs before she pried her eyes open.

When she opened them she saw Edmund by her side, he was facing away from her and holding something, reaching out a hand she caused him to turn to her, breath hitching when she saw the child within his hands and tears running down Edmund's cheeks.

The little baby's eyes were opened wide and it's breathing strong. Upon it's head was a dark mane of hair and once eyes were opened she saw her own reflected in them, "he woke up the same time as you, they said he probably wouldn't make it but he fought and fought."

"The other?" Anne's croaky voice enquired, looking around for the sign of another babe only to see a small figure with laboured breathing within the cot next to her bed. In the silence of the room, as his two parent watched him, the little Prince let out wheezing sounds as he struggled to remain upon this earth.

She looked to Edmund and saw him cry for the first time, tears running down from his intense blue eyes to his creamy pale cheeks as he stated, "he still may recover, but he only has a matter of days to. Like our older boy he fought on and on, he's so much like you, and has stayed alive longer than anyone expected but the poison within you went into him, if he doesn't start recovering soon then we may lose him."

Anne felt silent tears fall down her face as she struggled to get up, Edmund looking most bewildered and shocked at what she was doing, "Anne, you can't-,"

Walking to where her son lay Anne carefully lifted the delicate boy into her arms and smiled at him, it was a mournful, teary smile yet one that spoke of hope for his life, hope for their family, "live, my darling Lionheart."

"Lionheart?" Edmund enquired with a large smile as he gently rocked his elder son of whom had begun to kick up a fuss.

"Yes, it much suits him," Anne stated, "he shall be Prince Richard Tudor, Duke of York; our Lionheart. And he'll live."

Edmund smiled sadly at her confidence, truly hoping and wishing for the same above all else as he looked down at the little boy within his arms, "and for our Prince of Wales."

"Well, he shall be destined for greatness too, so he must have an equally as worthy name," Anne told Edmund looking down with eyes filled with devotion – the same she gazed at Elizabeth with – at her elder and younger son.

"Alexander," Edmund muttered as he looked down at his son, finding the name most suited the young boy, "for Alexander the Great. Let him have a reign just as victorious and prosperous."

And with that the boys names were decided: Prince Alexander Tudor of England and of Scotland, Prince of Wales and Prince Richard Tudor of England and of Scotland, Duke of York.

Anne looked at her younger son with determination, Edmund was right. He was like her. He could live.

 ** _ET-ET-ET-ET_**

 **27th August 1524**

 ** _Greenwich Palace, Greenwich_**

"Has the servant been taken care of?" Henry enquired of the Seymours as they entered his rooms, they nodded to his words and he let a small smile reside upon his face, "good."

"Your Grace, I must implore you that if you want your son to be legitimate then you must marry Jane today," Edward stated, his sister already being four months pregnant and it would already be known that this child had been conceived out of wedlock. Something must be done and now.

"I will. I have been on the end pf the King's displeasure once and I know he will forgive me within a few months. Tell Jane we shall be wed tonight."

Edmund may be safe for now with his two sons but Prince Richard may not survive for long and things can _always_ go wrong… And then, Henry would bar his nieces from the throne and take it for himself. He would bring a reign of glory, Jane must have a son.

 **What are the Seymour's up to? How will Edmund react to Henry's marriage? What will Elizabeth think of Richard? What gender and name will Jane and Henry's baby be/have? What other plots are there?**

 **NEXT CHAPTER WE WILL BE IN _SCOTLAND_! (I know that has been long awaited XD)**

 **Find out next chapter and leave _your_ opinions in the reviews!**

 **Have a great day or night,**

 **-LadyHallows**

 **P.S just got addicted to season 1 game of thrones! On episode six!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Review Replies:**

 **. .xxx:** _you'll find out all in this chapter ;)_

 **Imperial Dragons:** _I hope so too :), you'll find out about Catherine within the first sector of this chapter, and, yes, I do believe he will be. Much drama coming this chapter ;)_

 **PatrickMan231:** _trust me, he will be mad ;) thank you for enjoying the chapter and I hope you enjoy this one too! And yes, seeing Henry's Tudor Tantrums (as well as Edmund's) will be coming soon…_

 _I sound like a movie trailer don't I? XD_

 **Lady Nyshah:** _you'll have to wait and see ;), but think, should the innocent baby be blamed for Henry's crimes? *insert author's thinking face here*_

 **xshynenstarx:** _I know :( but every lie and betrayal is found out eventually or causes a mass problem, you always have to pay the price for what has been done. You'll have to wait and see for the gender ;) I am already adoring little Richard (Alexander too!) so I reallt hope he will pull through… Don't tell Alexander but Richard is my favourite for now ;)_

 **Kara:** _'useless' girl is a bit offensive to the female gender ngl, but anyways, you'll have to wait and see for the gender._

 **Guest (the most awesome story…):** _Thank you! It means the world to know that people are truly enjoying my story! You'll have to wait and see for Henry's deceit and I hope so too!_

 **Guestie (Jane and Henry's brat…):** _I understand where you're coming from but is the child truly to blame for its parent's sins? (Spoken like a true religious person there XD) But you'll have to wait and see for the outcome ;)_

 **Guest (please have Jane…):** _you'll find out the gender soon enough! :)_

 **Thank you all so much for so many reviews! Most we've had on a chapter! Therefore this chapter is dedicated to all of you above!**

 **The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 17**

 _ **27**_ _ **th**_ _ **August 1524**_

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich**_

"I know what you've done," Catherine informed her husband as he stared stonily at her weakening form, the life leaving her eyes with every passing second, "I know this was your doing, or at least on your orders. I know you're going to replace me with that young whore who snuggled her way into your bed, and I know she's probably with child, with your brat."

A cough racked her body, though she did not lean up nor turn for she had no strength to, instead she just directed her glower at Henry as crimson spurted from her throat and onto her lips, making choking sounds as some went straight back down her throat, of which she was already struggling beyond belief to keep the ability to breathe.

"I do not appreciate the way you are talking about my heir, madam-,"

"Your Heir? Your Heir?" Catherine repeated, laughing and resulting in gurgling as her eyes never left Henry', "that child is a bastard that you will pass off as an Heir whilst you marry whilst the breath still remains in my lungs! I will fight you, Henry! I will fight you to my last breath! I am Infanta Catalina of Aragon and Castille, former wife of the _good_ and _kind_ Prince Arthur Tudor, wife of the tyrant Henry Tudor and mother of a beautiful, beautiful daughter, godmother to the Princess Elizabeth and Prince Richard, honorary Aunt to Prince Alexander. And I will never leave them, I will fight for them to my last breath. Always and forever."

"Your always and forever will not be for as long as you may think, _wife_ ," and then Henry swiftly – in a spur of the moment decision – grabbed the pillow and began to smother the strong woman.

True to her words, the beautiful, strong, independent woman fought him to her last breath, the dying whisper upon her lips, the only word she could wheeze out at the time that she had managed to gain any breath, was: "Mary."

"Queen Anne-,"

"Leave me."

"But, My Queen-,"

"I SAID LEAVE ME!" Her words came out as a ferocious yell as Nan Shelton jumped at the sound of her voice, scuttling swiftly out of the room as Anne collapsed to the floor and dissolved into tears.

Catherine was dead. Her mentor, the woman she looked onto, a mother to a girl of but eight was gone from this world. She would never again plait Mary's hair nor read her to sleep, or even hold her close – as Anne could of Elizabeth – as she cried. She couldn't grow old proud of whom her beautiful daughter would become, doting on grandchildren for she was stolen by poison, though the true method was suffocation; at least, according to Doctor Linacre. Though it was most likely that she had suffocated on her own blood.

A wail cut off all of her train of thoughts as little Prince Richard let out a small screech – not as loud as Alexander could, his health still being fragile though improving – though still enough to more than alert Anne that her son needed something.

Wiping furiously at the tears that had poured from her icy resolve she walked over to the cot, the one of which her two sons shared. Originally they were both going to have separate cots but little Alexander would wail like a banshee if his younger, ill brother was moved from his side – an action that brought a large smile to her face as did the scene before her now with Alexander's tiny, chubby arm upon his brother as if trying to protect him from any evils the world would cause.

Carefully she picked up her youngest boy and set him within her arms, shushing him and gently rocking him, "quite down, my little Lionheart, otherwise you shall wake your darling brother," the baby seemed to silence at her words, looking up to her with the bright blue eyes that Edmund possessed, and otherwise was identical to her oldest son. Adoration filled the Queen's gaze as little Richard's eyes begun to flutter shut, and as more tears began to race down her face at the mere thought of how many babies her closest friend had come to love only to have to watch as they sucummed and headed to their grave.

She would not let Catherine's poor, lost girl be taken as they had.

"Nan!" Anne called out and felt extremely guilty as the said woman looked most nervous at entering the room, she found herself most regretting her earlier outburst even if had been inevitable when she bore such news, "tell Sir Edmund Howard that I wish for the Lady Mary Tudor of Somerset to be brought to court and then immediately to me. She deserves to be here for her mother's burial."

 **4** **th** **September 1524**

 _ **Westminster Abbey, London**_

 _Here Lies Catherine Tudor nee Trastámara, Duchess of Somerset and Countess of Hereford,_

 _Also known as the Infanta Catalina of Aragon and Castille,_

 _There is not words upon God's Earth to express how many lives this strong woman touched and changed, how she stayed through trails and toils; she was a woman worthy of being an Infanta of Spain and, when Prince Arthur was alive, Princess of Wales, future Queen of England._

 _Beloved mother, wife, friend, sister, aunt and cousin._

 _Always and Forever._

 **7** **th** **September 1524**

 _ **Palace of Westminster, London**_

Edmund had never felt a rage like this for many years. His younger brother had disappeared the night his wife of ten and five years died and had the nerve to then present himself at Edmund's daughter's first birthday celebrations? Edmund wasn't angry – nay, he was past that – he was furious. Especially when the said younger man burst into the hall with the smirk upon his face that was always in place when Henry had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Why was he so enraged? Because Edmund just _knew_ what had transpired.

"Mary, come to papa," Henry called out as the entirety of the court stopped to stare at the Lord of whom had seemingly gone rouge for the past weeks after the death of Catherine, rumours had speculated from ill due to his immense to having secretly wed Lady Jane Seymour to having murdered his wife and ran away to avoid prosecution for his crimes.

The young girl moved to take a step forwards but Anne was quick to stop her in her path, "don't, Mary, your Uncle is angry at your papa and we do not know why he ran after… after your mama went to heaven."

Reluctantly nodding the eight year old took a step back, only for Henry to glower at the duo, "I am a Prince of England, madam, the son of King Henry VII and Queen Consort Elizabeth Plantagenet of York and you are but a daughter of a mere knight, who do you think you are to stand between my daughter and I?"

The entirety of the court bated their breath as they awaited for the Queen to arise to the temper tantruming Tudor, "I think, My _Lord_ , that I am the Queen Consort of England and of Scotland, wife to King Edmund I of England and mother to the Princess Elizabeth Tudor; the future King, Prince Alexander Tudor and Prince Richard Tudor. Therefore I also think that I outrank you.

And it is 'Your Majesty' not 'madam' though I can surely find you tutors to teach you etiquette and pronunciation if need be."

At first Henry simply glared but then, as he went to speak more treason by opening his mouth, Edmund cut across him, his own glower one that rivalled Medusa's, "a word, Henry,2 were the words demanded through clenched teeth before Edmund personally took to dragging his younger brother out of the feasting room – where in which Anne cleverly demanded that the dancing begin in order to distract other's (including eavesdroppers) attention from what was currently happening – and into an empty room a few corridors down.

"Are you mad?" Edmund exclaimed angrily as he regarded his younger brother, "are you such a stupid, idiot as to think that people do not suspect you as Catherine's murderer? But to go and marry again, especially against such specific orders-,"

"How did you know I wed Jane?" Henry enquired as he looked at his brother confusedly with a mounting anger of his own searing within him as his brother spoke to him as if he were an inviscid.

"You bursting in like that, looking so so proud for defying me and getting exactly what you want. Catherine wasn't even buried by the time you married that girl, was she?"

"Do not speak of my pregnant wife in such a way."

Edmund's eyes only widened for a fraction before a fiery rage consumed them, "how far along is she? How far, _Henry_?"

"Coming up to four months."

 _CRACK!_

Edmund's fist collided with Henry's face, surely breaking his nose before leering over the man and stating, "get out of my sight."

Lady Jane Tudor nee Seymour, a girl of ten and six, ran her hand softly across her slightly bulging stomach with a smile as she thought of the new life growing within her, a child of her very own, and of the man she loved. Her moment, however was interrupted by the bang of the door as Henry Tudor angrily strode into the chambers, opened up a chest and started cramming stuff in.

"What is happening, my love?" Jane questioned as she watched her husband, not wanting to be too close in fear that he might act upon rage and harm the baby.

"We are to leave court, banished," Henry seemed to laugh madly at the latter word causing a rise of concern within Jane, concern melting into fear as he confidently strode over and placed a hand upon her swelling stomach, "our boy shall be strong," he stated with a large, manic grin.

Dread pooled in Jane's stomach as she feared the what ifs of if she was carrying a girl rather than the boy he so desperately desired, instead she replied with, "yes, my love, he will be."

 **February 29** **th** **1525**

 _ **Somerset House, Somerset**_

Henry paced outside the chambers of his wife as she screamed out from the horrific pains of labour that February night. Her screams had been ongoing for the past one and twenty hours and Henry was more than fed up, though willing to wait such a time to finally have the son he so craved.

A cry split through the air, a wail of a babe working it's way through the doors and to his ears to where his face lit up with a smile unlike any other one had seen upon his face before; ignoring the lady come to announce the gender he rushed into the chambers to where his wife lay, exhausted and crying as the midwife held a babe not far from her.

"Henry, I did not mean for it to happen, I did not control it… She's a little girl, but she's healthy, she's beautiful. She's got your eyes, Henry," Henry felt all that joy, all those hopes and dreams disperse out of him as if he were a deflated balloon as he looked at the little girl. His _daughter_. Not a son. Never a son.

She had promised, Jane had _promised_ him a son and yet all he had now was yet another girl; no better than he had been before he killed the mother of his eldest child for his _heir_ , now he had a daughter.

"Henry, say something, please," Jane begged of him whilst Henry looked emotionlessly at the fair haired babe.

"Her name will be Catherine," he stated; and with those words Lady Jane Tudor nee Seymour, now the Duchess of Somerset and Countess of Hereford shook her head and sobbed; for he had chosen to punish her in the cruellest of ways. For everyday she saw her darling daughter she would be cursed to remember what her family had caused to another, for a daughter to become motherless, for Catherine's child to be left alone within this world, she would _never_ forget.

 **What do you think? What is wrong with Henry, is he now becoming the true tyrant he always was? Will Jane and Henry have more children – a boy? – or will Catherine be their only child? When will they be accepted back to court? How will Mary cope? How is little Richard? Will there be more royal children? What will become of Elizabeth, Alexander and Richard? What will they be like?**

 **Find out soon and review your opinion ;)**

 **Have a great day/night,**

 **-iConfunded**

 **P.S I am on holiday Sunday-Sunday and then have my GCSE Year 10 MOCKS coming up so I will be spending a lot of time revising so please keep that in mind when it comes to updates (I'll be done with MOCKS on the 17** **th** **March) anyways see you in the next update 3**


	18. Chapter 18

**The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 18**

 _ **3**_ _ **rd**_ _ **March 1527**_

 _ **Norfolk, England**_

Quite murmurings spread around the Norfolk pub as they discussed the letter that had been read put; one that had contained treason and one, if they acted upon could result in their own deaths.

The Duke of Somerset, Earl of Hereford was looking to raise an army up in arms against the King.

King Edmund, who was currently visiting in Scotland, was none the wiser to the plot as of yet; but the Northerners had no doubt that when he did, it would cost them all their heads.

"Why should we side with that upstart, Henry, we have a King and a Queen; we have Princess Elizabeth and the Princes Alexander and Richard, what can he give us?" Questioned one as many yelled in agreement, the messenger who had been sent to spread the news of Henry's planned rebellion glowered at them all.

"Because Henry will give you all titles if you do so," he reasoned, grinning at them all and wiping the aspects of his ill temper off of his face – he must gain their trust – carrying on, "you will be rich for your assistance to the crown." 

His words easily gained a greedy man's attention, leaning in forward in interest as they listened to his words, lured as if to a sirens song, "we will be rid of the Queen and have King Henry and his Heirs upon the throne; and all of you will be noblemen, aiders to the crown!"

"The Duke of Somerset, Earl of Hereford has no Heir," one man argued, standing upon his stool in order to gain the attention of the speaker.

"He will by February's end."

A wiser man than those standing there upon that day would have known that not all could be ennobled, that the speaker's silvertounge was drawing them all in; an older man than they would remember the spiteful Prince that he was, remember of the promises he would make and the people he would break.

Yet so many within that pub upon that Spring day were neither old nor were they wise, eyes alight with the sin of greed as they whispered to one another; thinking of all the things they could buy with the money they would be promised.

None of the men paying attention to a woman and her five year old son who had slipped into the pub upon that day, the place where she should have been meeting one Lord George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford for yet another secret meeting that they had set up over the past few years.

Lady Katherine Grey, once mistress to the King and mother of Lord Charles Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond and of Lennox, quietly slipped out of the pub; meeting George upon her way out; the beautiful blonde put a finger to her lips as she gestured for him to follow her the rest of the way out, for they had a plot to uncover and a King and Queen to warn.

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 _ **Holyrood Palace**_

Anne Tudor nee Boleyn, Queen Consort of England, Scotland, Lady of Ireland, grinned mischeviously at her husband as she watched him pull upon a top to his bare back.

Suddenly the said man turned around, a smirk upon his face, "enjoying the view, wife?"

"Very, very much so," Anne informed him, her voice going deeper and far more seductive as she grinned up coyly at him.

Smirk still etched upon his face he waltzed over to her, putting his hands upon her ankles and dragging her down the bed until her face was underneath his own, listening to her melodic giggles filling the air.

Staring at her for but a moment Edmund cocked his head to the side, smirk leaving his face as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, "what troubles you so, my love?"

Anne sighed, realising that the occasional faraway look that had entered her eyes upon occasion had not been looked over by her husband, she brought her head towards hiss o that they rested together before she spoke, "I miss them, Edmund. Scotland is so beautiful and I love knowing the people here; but I miss Isabel, Cecily, Elizabeth, Alexander and Richard dearly, my own hearts; and Catherine's darling Mary."

"We shall head back within a few days," Edmund promised, bringing his lips to her own with a soft, comforting kiss, "but I believe it would be too cruel to the people of Scotland to deprive them of you too soon."

Anne's coy smile lit up her face once more, "then let us take in the advantages of this beautiful castle room."

"Let's."

It wasn't until several minutes later that a servant burst into the scene, blushing to the colour of a beetroot as he surveyed the scene, stammering out, "y-your Maj-Majesties I am-,"

"Out with it, Hemmingway," Edward demanded with a roll of his eyes at the teenage servant, moving in front of Anne to shield her from view, "tell us."

"A-a letter from Lord Rochford, Your Majesties, he says it's urgent. Some of the North, Somerset and Hereford are raising up arms against you."

 _ **ET-ET-ET-ET**_

 _ **15**_ _ **th**_ _ **March 1527**_

 _ **Somerset House**_

Two years had passed since the birth of her daughter, since the little girl that Henry had named 'Catherine' in order to spite her; throwing her into reminders of the role in a death that she had never wanted a part to play within.

Lady Jane Tudor nee Seymour watched with a smile as her little girl totted around on chubby toddler legs, blonde curls hanging behind her and blue eyes that mirrored Henry's inquisitive as she stared at the room; little Catherine, despite the memories her name brought, was Jane's darling and not for anything would she trade her.

Not even for Henry's long awaited son.

Putting a hand upon her belly she clutched it, a tear falling down her face. If this child was a boy then he would only add steam to the burning fire that was the rebellion, a child who – unknowingly – could hold death and life within the palm of their fingers.

The rebellion was growing more and more hostile within each day; unlawful men flocked to Henry's side with the promise of money and riches, of titles and lands as the crazed gleam that seemed to inhabit her husband's eyes grew more and more sinister.

She didn't want this. All she had wanted was to please her family, and to have a family with the man that she had grown to love despite having been demanded to go to his side. She didn't, however, love the man that he had become.

"How fares our don, sweet Jane?" The voice of her husband inquired, his voice devoid of the emotion that once filled it, pulling Catherine to the side away from Henry as the little girl cowered from his view she coolly replied,

"Very well, my Lord Husband." 

"The rebellion is growing in men and arms each day but so is my brother's army, they will be coming for us and I need to keep my Heir safe. You and Catherine will accompany the army as we approach onwards," Henry informed them, leaving no room for the argument that was bound to follow.

"But," Jane protested, looking between Catherine and her ever growing bump in horror, "Catherine and the baby, the baby can't be born-,"

"The baby will be born. You will not fail me again, Jane."

Jane lowered her head, unback to hold back the tears that fell down her face, gone was the man she had loved and in it's place was a power hungry monster; vying for the throne with the desperation of a man dying with thirst even it meant the imminent death of his wife, daughter and unborn child, "yes, my Lord Husband."

Nodding curtly Henry strolled from the room with something akin to a skip in his step as he moved as Jane outweighed her options.

The woman could not claim herself to be overly intelligent, she could not read nor write her own name and nor was she skilled in the arts of dancing or singing and only knew basic English; but she could understand her situation, and she did know that she would have to take hers and the survival of her children into her own hands.

She knew well of King Edmund's fast temper, she could not risk a letter to him, not yet anyway. Not when he was still raging of the nerve of his brother, ordering about an army and, most likely, growing fanatical about the safety of Anne, Elizabeth, Alexander and Richard; Mary Tudor too who Jane knew as well as any other noble that Anne treated and classed her as a daughter of her own after Catherine of Aragon's untimely death.

Merely the thought of the motherless child sent a rush of guilt down Jane's spine.

Nay, the King could not be reasoned with but she dearly hoped that the Queen could be; that Anne Boleyn might see her plight as a mother to a mother, women trying to make their way through a world filled with men.

"Mama," called out the voice of her small daughter, eyes wide, "mama."

Yes, for her children she would try anything; and it would have to be soon. But if Henry heard of what she had done, she dreaded to think of what this new man that he had become would do to her and little Catherine.

 **ET-ET-ET-ET**

 _Dear Her Majesty Queen Anne of England, Scotland and Lady of Ireland,_

 _I am writing to you in order to plea your mercy, my Lady writes this for me now of the words of my own mouth; begging for the safety of my children._

 _My husband, I fear, has lost all the good within him, left with just a bitter shell of madness. He is forcing myself, Catherine and the unborn child within me to accompany him upon this war he seeks to declare._

 _I wish no part in this civil war he is brewing and do not support it, I only wish for the safety of Catherine and my child yet to be born._

 _I am so sorry for any part I played in the demolishing of Henry and Catherine's relationship and the hurt I have caused Mary, who is but a child innocent of this world's cruelty._

 _Please, I beg of you, at least help my children. Save them from him; for it was Henry who poisoned Catherine and who then proceeded to smother her in the night, I ask not to be made his victim, but if you cannot save me then save them, please._

 _From a mother to a mother; a woman to a woman._

 _Yours Faithfully,_

 _Lady Jane Tudor nee Seymour,_

 _Duchess of Somerset and Countess of Hereford._

Isabel, who had been reading over her step-mother's shoulder looked at her with tears in her eyes, the girl of nine having loved her aunt dearly, "what will you do, mama?" 

Anne felt a tear escape her own eyes, one of anger and of sadness, it had been Henry all along. Henry who had orchestrated Catherine's murder, who had killed her; and now a woman she had come to hate was pleading for the safety of her children, something Anne was sure that she would have done if she were in her shoes. Something that, many years ago, had been very possible.

"Isabel," Anne began, looking to her beloved step-daughter seriously, the beautiful girl's bright blue eyes gazed into Anne's own, hanging to every word, "you must not tell Mary of any of this, not yet, it will upset her far too much and I need to know what I will do first."

Isabel nodded solemnly, yet hesitantly, still unsure as to what her admirable step-mother had planned; the said woman as unpredictable as she had been many years previously.

"I, Isabel, am going to make Henry Tudor pay."

 **Two year time skip and war is brewing! What do you guys think about Jane, victim or symbol of rebellion with her unborn child? What of Henry? Did you enjoy the Edmund/Anne scene, we haven't heard much from their pairing recently so a little fluff was overdue!**

 **Tell me what you think in the reviews and I'm sorry for my long time away, GCSE MOCKs are now over!**

 **Until next time,**

 **LadyHallows.**


	19. Chapter 19

**The Second Tudor King**

 _ **18**_ _ **th**_ _ **March 1527**_

 _ **Hatfield House**_

Anne Boleyn was no fool. She knew that the threat of Henry, Duke of Somerset and Earl of Hereford, was dangerous; she knew that his Northern support was vast, now spreading down the country via Nobles with personally grudges against King Edmund I.

She knew that her husband _could_ be lost when he took leave almost immediately when they arrived back within England, to Greenwich Palace.

She closed her eyes and tried to remove such fretting from her mind, turning her head to open her eyes to the sight of her three young children playing merrily.

The Princess Elizabeth was three, nearing four, now and a most charming little girl. Her skill at learning languages surprised Anne, even though she had been adept at languages herself, and was already leaning French, Latin and Italian. Spanish, Portuguese and German Anne would have her taught when she reached six. She was also a very beautiful child; possessing the stunning red-gold hair of Elizabeth of York and Elizabeth Woodville, and the hooking dark eyes of Anne herself.

Alexander Tudor, the Prince of Wales, was also a most healthy and robust child who was nearing his third birthday. He was mischievous and loving and kind, but boisterous and loud when he wanted to be – giving his parents ear ache – other than having Anne's dark eyes, long lashes and smirk he was very much Edmund's image, quite the opposite of his little brother with looks.

Prince Richard Tudor, the Duke of York, was perhaps not quite as healthy as his brother – the common cold was easily caught by him, but it had no lasting effects – but who could blame the toddler after almost succumbing to poison? He surprised many by being such an image of Anne, from her eyes to the way her hair curled. He was a bubbly, happy baby; and Anne was so grateful, and always would be, that both of her darling boys had lived.

She sorely wished that Catherine had too, oh, how she missed her companion. In over two years there had yet to be any sign of another royal child but Edmund, while Anne knew did want more children – in fact he was set on having a large family if he could – did not speak a word against her. And she loved him all the more for it.

The only downside, she supposed, of being a royal mother was all of the betrothals sent for her children.

Spain, Portugal, Navarre, France, Sweden, Denmark, Italy and the Holy Roman Empire were all bidding for the hand of her children.

France, she had decided with great sorrow as she longed for her daughter to be Queen of such a beautiful country, was not in the running as the Princess Cecily – Edmund's seven year old daughter from his marriage to the old Queen Margaret – was to be wed to Francis III of Brittany, who would succeed his father King Francis I of France to the throne of France. Though, Anne supposed, she was getting a daughter upon the throne of France. Cecily called her 'mama' and she thought of the charming girl as a daughter.

Hungary, Croatia and Bohemia were all out of the running as the Princess Isabel – Edmund's nine year old daughter with Margaret – was to marry King Louis of Bohemia, Croatia and Hungary of whom had, luckily, been formerly signing the betrothal contract during the devastating Battle of Mohacs, from which the twenty year old King was still trying to recover his realms from. Isabel Anne cared deeply for too.

She supposed she would have to put more thought into such decisions.

 **ET-ET-ET-ET-ET-ET**

 _ **30**_ _ **th**_ _ **March 1527**_

 _ **Greenwich Palace, Greenwich**_

Throughout the crowds of the merry court one servant walking hurriedly, their face plagued with fears as they walked towards their Regent whilst the King was gone: Queen Anne Tudor nee Boleyn.

The Queen, it seemed, stopped the servant with great swiftness, the smile that had been held upon her face whilst she had been conversing with the Princess Mary, Duchess of Suffolk and Queen Dowager of France soon dropped.

The Servant, who would defend to his last breaths that he had not read the letter – he had – swiftly passed it to the Queen, hurrying out and wondering whether or not he should just sail to the Isle of White. Or somewhere further, like the Netherland to avoid what could be disastrous.

 _Dear Her Majesty Queen Anne of England, Scotland and France, Lady of Ireland,_

 _As yet another show of my alliance, to remind you of my plea to save Catherine and my babe that is to come I write to you with news. Henry has distracted King Edmund west with his army in a mock distraction, false information having been handed to His Majesty. Henry, with the help of the Northern Lords, has raised much of the Scottish Nobles nearby who are still bitter over the throne being given to the English – to which Henry has promised to have our Catherine or his Mary betrothed to Scotland's should-have-been King: James Stewart – the Scottish are already marching upon English Borders in the North._

 _As I write this – on March 28_ _th_ _1927 – I believe that they will have arrived in England within two days time._

 _Your Servant,_

 _Jane Tudor nee Seymour,_

 _Duchess of Somerset and Countess of Hereford._

Anne's eyes scanned over the letter several times. At first she had hoped that it would all be a joke, that Jane Seymour was lying through her teeth. But why would she?

She was the one who wanted Anne's help, she had no reason at all to lie. And Anne would be a fool to not take such a warning with upmost seriousness.

Standing she hurriedly fled the room, leaving the rest of the Court staring in her wake. Every weapon, every man, every ounce of power that they had got left she would use. She could not underestimate them.

And she? Well, Anne would lead the army.

 **AB-AB-AB-AB-AB**

 _ **April 2**_ _ **nd**_ _ **1527**_

They had swiftly reached the Midlands of England, Henry's army – well, mostly the Scottish army but he was determined to claim it as his own; to receive all the victory, like he would allow that boy to be King over him! – settled at last for some long earnt rest. They had marched and marched for days on end.

Henry couldn't help but let out a frightening laugh.

Edmund was so distracted that he would not even know that he was coming; there would be no army to fight against them. And he would claim the crown that he so rightly deserved. God had clearly made a mistake by making Arthur and Edmund older than him, and He had only corrected one; it was Henry's job to prove himself and correct the other.

His first movement as King: to behead his older brother.

And his pesky wife. His niece and nephews could have a nice, long stay in the tower. Like young Edward, Earl of Warwick.

"It is a misty day today, Your Grace, and camping out at the bottom of the hill will do us no favours. If an army was to approach us then we would be most vunerab-," 

"No army will approach us," Henry arrogantly informed the Cavalry Leader, "for nobody knows that we are here."

"But if they did, Your Grace-,"

"I will hear no more. Where is my wife?"

"Erm, I do not know, Your Grace," the leader informed him, looking mightily uncomfortable under Henry's positive glower.

"Well make yourself useful and find her!"

Henry turned away from the cavalry leader, looking back when he had not heard retreating footsteps to see him staring open mouthed at the top of the hill.

They had not heard them coming. There was no cavalry to give them away but a mass of people – an army smaller than theirs – upon the hill. There was but one horse upon the hill, and upon that sat a woman he knew all too well.

Queen Anne.

He heard the Admirals, Captains and Leaders yelling for formation; they had been caught off guard. All because of the arrogance that Henry would never admit to.

He stared for but a moment more, waiting, wondering how they had got the information; how they were so many steps ahead of what he had thought they would be. But realisation was swift. Realisation, in fact, that came with hearing his wife scream out as she exited the tent, clutching her stomach.

And then they descended.

 **AB-AB-AB-AB-AB-AB**

 **19** **th** **May 1527**

Amongst the roaring crowd a traitor walked, fruit of all kinds thrown at his matted red hair, abuse hurled at him and glares shot into him like daggers.

From a balcony, the King, the Queen and the Duchess of Somerset, Countess of Hereford and Duchess of Suffolk observed. Namely the traitor's brother, the woman he had once so desired, his wife and his sister.

Not one looked upon him fondly that day; not even the woman who had birthed him a son – Edward – but six weeks ago, and had had his daughter – Catherine – two years ago. Not one.

He was pushed roughly upon the stage, a French swordsman – his brother's only mercy for him – awaiting him. The traitor could not stop his legs from quaking as he eyed the sharpness of the sword, or how it glinted under the may sun.

In the crowd he saw her. He saw Catherine.

Catherine was as stunning as she had once been as Infanta Catalina of Castille and Aragon, and beside her were many children. He didn't need to ask to know that they were also his, the children of all the failed pregnancies that he had so reprimanded her for.

 _Isabel, Henry, Edmund, Arthur, Joana and Margaret_ , he didn't know how he knew but he did. All were there but his still healthy daughter with Catherine – Mary – whom he knew that Anne was raising lovingly in the royal nursery with Prinesses Isabel, Cecily, Elizabeth and Princes Alexander and Richard.

He watched as Catherine shook her head at him before laying a hand upon Queen Anne's shoulder, smiling fondly at her old friend before taking the hands of Joana and Margaret; Isabel, Henry, Edmund and Arthur all old enough to look at him with such disappointment.

For a moment, guilt was felt all over him; and then there was only anger.

He struggled, the guards by his sides reaching out to quell his movements as Henry Tudor, the youngest surviving son of King Henry VII of England and Queen Consort – a woman who could have been Queen in her own right – Elizabeth of York, the Duke of Somerset and Earl of Hereford yelled out, for the last time, "I should have been King!"

Before the French Swordsman acted swiftly and his head was removed from his shoulders.

It is known, in modern day, that you are still fully aware for several seconds after you are decapitated. And in those several seconds Henry's eyes fell upon Anne.

Because he remembered; he remembered what his reign would have been like; he remembered what he did to Catherine, to Anne, to Jane, to Anne of Cleves, to Katherine Howard, to Kathryn Parr.

He knew it all.

That he had died upon the same day, within the same way that she would have died nine years from now.

And then, Henry Tudor was no more.

 **Hi guys I'm so sorry that I haven't been updating that much recently I've just lost my passion a bit for this book :( as you can tell we are drawing to a close and the next chapter will be the last. I hope you all enjoyed this story and I'm so sorry that I am not as passionate for it as I once was. One time, in the future, I might rewrite it with Edmund as the younger brother and with the other Tudor siblings still alive as I have so many ideas for a plotline like that.**

 **Thank you so much for being with me for this journey, and I hope you will enjoy the end.**

 **LadyHallows.**


	20. Chapter 20Epilogue

**The Second Tudor King**

 **Chapter 20**

 _ **9**_ _ **th**_ _ **December 1540**_

 _Dear Mama,_

 _All is well here in France, even after being wed to Francis for eight years and being the Duchess of Brittany and Dauphine of France for the same amount of time I still cannot help but marvel at it!_

 _Francis' younger brother – Henri – continues to grow jealous that Francis will be King but I pay him no mind. His wife is lovely though. I had never studied Italian and now Catherine de' Medici is teaching me!_

 _Anne, Charles, Isabelle and Elisabeth are all excelling fabulously in their studies! Anne has a talent for languages, it seems your namesake is so much like you, displaying that you were always my mother when it mattered._

 _I am not only writing this letter to keep you up to date but also to inform you that I am with child once more. I would very much like to name my child – if he is to be a boy – after papa but King Francis I claims that it is too English; perhaps, once I am Queen, I will be able to call my son Edmund. My Francis seems most agreeable to the name._

 _I have also heard that Isabel is proving a very efficient Regent of Bohemia, Croatia and Hungary. My heart bleeds for my elder sister, whose husband left her alone with their son far too early, but they say she is most able and is fending the Turks from her son – King Edmund I's – territories most valiantly!_

 _I do hope that papa was not too hard on little Elizabeth. We all know that she is independent and that when she loves, she loves completely and will not let anyone get in her way. Surely papa will see the love between her marriage to Lord Edmund Brandon; Elizabeth writes quite frequently very lovesick like._

 _Give Elizabeth, Alexander, Richard, Eleanor, Arthur, Catherine, Arabella and George my regards! I miss them all very much._

 _Your Loving Daughter,_

 _Cecily Valois,_

 _Her Highness the Dauphine of France and Duchess of Brittany._

Anne smiled as she finished reading the letter from her step-daughter, Cecily, whom was the mother of three French Princesses and a French Prince, and of Isabel whom was successfully ruling a country for her two year old son, fending of the Turks in ways that mirrored Anne's own battle strategies against the Scots and the Northerners.

And then there was Elizabeth. Her beautiful, headstrong, independent daughter whom had rebelled against her possible marriage to Phillip of Spain and had married her love: Edmund Brandon, and was expecting her first child.

Secretly, Anne and Mary Brandon had been rooting for them all along.

Catherine's beloved daughter, Mary, had married a man whom she had loved ever so dearly: Phillip, Duke of Palatinate-Neuburg. A German Duke of whom she had met during trading negotiation with England. The two had put aside religion and had simply thought of one another. They were proud parents to Lady Katerina and Lady Anna.

She could not have hoped more for her daughter and the strong-minded women whom she thought of her own daughters.

But today was not a day to be reminiscing about her daughters' marriages for she had to look to the marriages of her sons: Alexander, Prince of Wales and Prince Richard, Duke of York.

Both of their brides to be: Infanta Maria Manuela of Portugal and Princess Jeanne of Navarre were to wed her two eldest sons.

The whole royal family had congregated in the entrance to Whitehall Palace. The twelve year old Princess Eleanor of England and of Scotland who was to wed the Heir to the Swedish Throne: Eric, once she came of age; the nine year old Prince Arthur of England and of Scotland who was to wed Infanta Joana of Spain; the six year old Princess Catherine of England and of Scotland who was to wed the Heir to the Danish and Norwegian Throne; the four year old Princess Arabella of England and of Scotland for whom a betrothal to Joao Manuel of Portugal – the Portuguese Heir – was in the making and then there was one year old George, Duke of Bedford whom was a sweet babe.

Anne smiled slightly at Richard – the younger of the two – who fidgeted nervously at Anne's side whilst Alexander held his head tall and pretended to be fearless though still clicking his tongue, a tendency that Anne knew to be a nervous one.

The door soon opened, revealing both Princess who would be Queens. Infanta Maria Manuela of Portugal would become Queen Mary of England and of Scotland whilst Jeanne would succeed her father as Queen of Navarre and Richard would be made King Consort of Navarre.

Maria had cascading auburn hair, dark eyes and a smile of confidence as she looked around the Castle that would one day be her's, when she was Queen Mary. Anne smiled warmly at the girl of ten and three years whose eyes finally landed upon her own; before she looked confusedly towards the two boys, clearly wondering to which she was to be wed.

Jeanne was frivolous and high-spirited, a bounce within her step as she moved – though elegantly – towards the group. Anne found herself more taken, however, with Jeanne for there was a fire in her eyes that Anne had not seen in Maria's, a stubbornness and intelligence that had once mirrored Anne's own.

Edmund did not analyse the two as much as Anne had, but rather attempted to make them feel welcome, a smile upon his face as he stated, "Welcome to Whitehall Palaces, Your Highnesses."

 **Hundreds of years into the future the Tudor Era still fascinates hundreds of thousands, the most famous period of English History. What drew so many to the subject was the love between Anne Boleyn – a Knight's daughter – and King Edmund, as well as the dynamic that Henry, Duke of Somerset and Earl of Hereford threw into the mix.**

 **To this day their descendants still rule over: England and Scotland, Navarre, Sweden, Denmark and Norway and Portugal.**

 **In fact, upon this day the reigning monarch of England is Queen Anne II, named for her many greats grandmother.**

 **Cecily's family – though the French Monarchy was abolished – still hold the title of 'Prince' or 'Princess' of France, and the Dukedom of Valois. Isabel's descendants still ruling over Croatia, Hungary and Bohemia to this day.**

 **As for Princess Elizabeth and Prince George – both children of Anne and Edmund who married for love – still hold the Dukedoms of Suffolk and Bedford respectively, though Suffolk's male line ended in 1817 and resumed through the eldest daughter – Victoria.**

 _ **A/N**_

 _ **I would like to say a massive thank you to you all for reading this and hope you enjoyed how it ended :)**_


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